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LIBRARY    OF    THK 


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R  C  UL  A  TING    B  K  A  NCB /&  *>»  ( ■ 

:.ru  m  two  weekj? ;  or  a  week  before  .the  end  of  thett$rid. 


HILDA   AND  THE  TWO   BROTHERS.— p.  158, 


Harold, 


CfjeUor'tJ  Hj)tton  iStiition, 


HAROLD 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  SAXON  KINGS 


BT 


SIR  EDWARD  BULWER  LTTTON,  BART. 


COMPLETE  IN  ONE  VOLUME 


PHILADELPHIA 
J.  B.   LIPPINCOTT    &   CO. 

1875. 


i&H  r 


kilo, 
it?? 


PEEFACE 


The  author  of  an  able  and  learned  article  on 
Mabillon,*  in  the  Edinburgh  Eeview,  has  accu- 
rately described  my  aim  in  this  wor&;  although, 
with  that  generous  courtesy  which  characterizes  the 
true  scholar,  in  referring  to  the  labors  of  a  con- 
temporary, he  has  overrated  my  success.  It  was 
indeed  my  aim  "to  solve  the  problem  how  to  produce 
the  greatest  amount  of  dramatic  effect  at  the  least 
expense  of  historical  truth,"  —  I  borrow  the  words 
of  the  Eeviewer,  since  none  other  could  so  tersely 
express  my  design,  or  so  clearly  account  for  the  lead- 
ing characteristics  in  its  conduct  and  completion. 

There  are  two  ways  of  employing  the  materials 
of  History  in  the  service  of  Eomance :  the  one  con- 
sists in  lending  to  ideal  personages,  and  to  an 
imaginary  fable,  the  additional  interest  to  be  derived 
from  historical  groupings:  the  other  in  extracting 
the  main  interest  of  romantic  narrative  from  History 
itself.     Those  who  adopt  the  former  mode  are  at 

*  The  Edinburgh  Review,  No.  CLXXIX.  January,  1849.  Art.  I. 
"Correspondence  ine*dite,  de  Mabillon  et  de  Montfaucon,  aveo 
I'ltalie."     Par  M.  ValeVy.     Paris,  1848. 

1*  (T) 


VI  PREFACE. 

liberty  to  exclude  all  that  does  not  contribute  to 
theatrical  effect  or  picturesque  composition;  their 
fidelity  to  the  period  they  select  is  towards  the 
manners  and  costume,  not  towards  the  precise  order 
of  events,  the  moral  causes  from  which  the  events 
proceeded,  and  the  physical  agencies  by  which  they 
were  influenced  and  controlled.  The  plan  thus 
adopted  is  unquestionably  the  more  popular  and 
attractive,  and,  being  favored  by  the  most  illustrious 
writers  of  historical  romance,  there  is  presumptive 
reason  for  supposing  it  to  be  also  that  which  is  the 
more  agreeable  to  the  art  of  fiction. 

But  he  who  wishes  to  avoid  the  ground  pre-occu- 
pied  by  others,  and  claim  in  the  world  of  literature 
some  spot,  however  humble,  which  he  may  "  plough 
with  his  own  heifer,"  will  seek  to  establish  himself 
not  where  the  land  is  the  most  fertile,  but  where  it 
is  the  least  enclosed.  So,  when  I  first  turned  my 
attention  to  Historical  Eomance,  my  main  aim  was 
to  avoid  as  much  as  possible  those  fairer  portions  of 
the  soil  thatliad  been  appropriated  by  the  first  dis- 
coverers. The  great  author  of  Ivan  hoe,  and  those 
amongst  whom,  abroad  and  at  home,  his  mantle  was 
divided,  had  employed  History  to  aid  Eomance ;  I 
contented  myself  with  the  humbler  task  to  employ 
Bomance  in  the  aid  of  History  —  to  extract  from 
authentic  but  neglected  chronicles,  and  the  unfre- 
quented storehouse  of  Archaeology,  the  incidents  and 
details  that  enliven  the  dry  narrative  of  facts  to 
which  the  general  historian  is  confined  —  construct 
my  plot  from  the  actual  events  themselves,  and  place 


PREFACE.  Vil 

the  staple  of  such  interest  as  I  could  create  in 
reciting  the  struggles,  and  delineating  the  characters, 
of  those  who  had  been  the  living  fctors  in  the  real 
drama.  For  the  main  materials,  of  tl  ^  three  His- 
torical Eomances  I  have  composed,  I  consulted  the 
original  authorities  of  the  time  with  a  care  as  scru- 
pulous, as  if  intending  to  write,  not  a  fiction,  but  a 
history.  And  having  formed  the  best  judgment  I 
oould  of  the  events  and  characters  of  the  age,  I 
adhered  faithfully  to  what,  as  an  Historian,  I  should 
have  held  to  be  the  true  course  and  true  causes  of 
the  great  political  events,  and  the  essential  attributes 
of  the  principal  agents.  Solely  in  that  inward  life 
which,  not  only  as  apart  from  the  more  public  and 
historical,  but  which,  as  almost  wholly  unknown, 
becomes  the  fair  domain  of  the  poet,  did  I  claim  the 
legitimate  privileges  of  fiction,  and  even  here  I 
employed  the  agency  of  the  passions  only  so  far  a? 
they  served  to  illustrate  what  I  believed  to  be  the 
genuine  natures  of  the  beings  who  had  actually  lived, 
and  to  restore  the  warmth  of  the  human  heart  to 
the  images  recalled  from  the  grave. 

Thus,  even  had  I  the  gifts  of  my  most  illustrious 
predecessors,  I  should  be  precluded  the  use  of  many 
of  the  more  brilliant.  I  shut  myself  out  from  the 
wider  scope  permitted  -to  their  fancy,  and  denied 
myself  the  license  to  choose  or  select  materials,  alter 
dates,  vary  causes  and  effects  according  to  the  con- 
venience of  that  more  imperial  fiction  which  invents 
tli3  Probable  where  it  discards  the  Eeal.  The  mode 
I  have  adopted  has  perhaps  only  this  merit,  that  it  is 


▼Hi  PREFACE. 

my  own — mine  by  discovery  and  mine  by  labor 
And  if  I  can  raise  not  the  spirits  that  obeyed  the 
great  master  o5  romance,  nor  gain  the  key  to  the 
fairy-land  ti/at  opened  to  his  spell  —  at  least  I  have 
not  rifled  the  tomb  of  the  wizard  to  steal  my  art 
from  the  book  that  lies  clasped  on  his  breast. 

In  treating  of  an  age  with  which  the  general 
reader  is  so  unfamiliar  as  that  preceding  the  Norman 
Conquest,  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  (especially  in  the 
earlier  portions  of  my  tale),  those  explanations  of 
the  very  character  of  the  time  which  would  have 
been  unnecessary  if  I  had  only  sought  in  History 
the  picturesque  accompaniments  to  Romance.  I  have 
to  do  more  than  present  an  amusing  picture  of 
national  manners — detail  the  dress,  and  describe  the 
banquet.  According  to  the  plan  I  adopt,  I  have  to 
make  the  reader  acquainted  with  the  imperfect  fusion 
of  races  in  Saxon  England,  familiarize  him  with  the 
contests  of  parties  and  the  ambition  of  chiefs,  show 
him  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  a  kindly  but 
ignorant  church ;  of  a  brave  but  turbulent  aristoc- 
racy ;  of  a  people  partially  free,  and  naturally  ener- 
getic, but  disunited  by  successive  immigrations,  and 
having  lost  much  of  the  proud  jealousies  of  national 
liberty  by  submission  to  the  preceding  conquests  of 
the  Dane;  acquiescent  in  the  sway  of  foreign  kings, 
and  with  that  bulwark  against  invasion  which  an 
hereditary  order  of  aristocracy  usually  erects,  loosened 
to  its  very  foundations  by  the  copious  admixture  of 
foreign  nobles.  I  have  to  present  to  the  reader,  here, 
the  imbecile  priestcraft  of  the  illiterate  monk ;  there, 


PREFACE.  IX 

tne  dark  superstition  that  still  consulted  the  deities 
of  the  North  by  runes  on  the  elm  bark  and  adjura- 
tions of  the  dead.  And  in  contrast  to  these  pictures 
of  a  decrepit  monarchy  and  a  fated  race,  I  have  to 
bring  forcibly  before  the  reader  the  vigorous  attri- 
butes of  the  coming  conquerors  —  the  stern  will  and 
deep  guile  of  the  Norman  chief — the  comparative 
knowledge  of  the  rising  Norman  Church — the  nascent 
spirit  of  chivalry  in  the  Norman  vavasours ;  a  spirit 
destined  to  emancipate  the  very  people  it  contributed 
to  enslave,  associated,  as  it  imperfectly  was,  with  the 
sense  of  freedom :  disdainful,  it  is  true,  of  the  villein, 
but  proudly  curbing,  though  into  feudal  limits,  the 
domination  of  the  liege.  In  a  word,  I  must  place 
fully  before  the  reader,  if  I  would  be  faithful  to  the 
plan  of  my  work,  the  political  and  moral  features  of 
the  age,  as  well  as  its  lighter  and  livelier  attributes, 
and  so  lead  him  to  perceive,  when  he  has  closed  the 
book,  why  England  was  conquered,  and  how  England 
survived  the  Conquest. 

In  accomplishing  this  task,  I  inevitably  incur  the 
objections  which  the  task  itself  raises  up — objections 
to  the  labor  it  has  cost ;  to  the  information  which 
the  labor  was  undertaken  in  order  to  bestow ;  ob- 
jections to  passages  which  seem  to  interrupt  the 
narrative,  but  which  in  reality  prepare  for  the  inci- 
dents it  embraces,  or  explain  the  position  of  the 
persons  whose  characters  it  illustrates  —  whose  fate 
it  involves ;  objections  to  the  reference  to  authorities; 
where  a  fact  might  be  disputed,  or  mistaken  for 
fiction;   objections  to  the  use  of  Saxon  words,  for 


PREFACE, 


which  no  accurate  synonyms  could  be  exchanged ; 
objections,  in  short,  to  the  coloring,  conduct,  and 
composition  of  the  whole  work;  objections  to  all  that 
separate  it  from  the  common  crowd  of  Komances, 
and  stamp  on  it,  for  good  or  for  bad,  a  character 
peculiarly  its  own.  Objections  of  this  kind  I  cannot 
remove,  though  I  have  carefully  weighed  them  all. 
And  with  regard  to  the  objection  most  important  to 
story-teller  and  novel-reader  —  viz.,  the  dryness  of 
some  of  the  earlier  portions,  though  I  have  thrice 
gone  over  those  passages,  with  the  stern  determina- 
tion to  inflict  summary  justice  upon  every  unneces- 
sary line,  I  must  own  to  my  regret  that  I  have  found 
but  little  which  it  was  possible  to  omit  without 
rendering  the  after  narrative  obscure,  and  without 
injuring  whatever  of  more  stirring  interest  the  story, 
as  it  opens,  may  afford  to  the  general  reader  of 
Komance. 

As  to  the  Saxon  words  used,  an  explanation  of  all 
those  that  can  be  presumed  unintelligible  to  a  person 
of  ordinary  education,  is  given  either  in  the  text  or 
a  foot-note.  Such  archaisms  are  much  less  numerous 
than  certain  critics  would  fain  represent  them  to  be; 
and  they  have  rarely  indeed  been  admitted  where 
other  words  could  have  been  employed  without  a 
glaring  anachronism  or  a  tedious  periphrase.  Would 
it  indeed  be  possible,  for  instance,  to  convey  a  notion 
of  the  customs  and  manners  of  our  Saxon  forefathers 
without  employing  words  so  mixed  up  with  their 
daily  usages  and  modes  of  thinking,  as  " weregeld" 
and    "  niddzring?"     Would   any   words   from   the 


PREFACE.  XI 

modern  vocabulary  suggest  the  same  idea  or  embody 
the  same  meaning  ? 

One  critic  good-humoredly  exclaims,  "  We  have  a 
full  attendance  of  thegns  and  cnehts,  but  we  should 
have  liked  much  better  our  old  friends  and  approved 
good  masters,  thanes  and  knights."  Nothing  could 
be  more  apposite  for  my  justification  than  the  in- 
stances here  quoted  in  censure ;  nothing  could  more 
plainly  vindicate  the  necessity  of  employing  the 
Saxon  words.  For  I  should  sadly  indeed  have  mis- 
led the  reader,  if  I  had  used  the  word  knight  in  an 
age  when  knights  were  wholly  unknown  to  the 
Anglo-Saxon;  and  cneht  no  more  means  what  we 
understand  by  knight,  than  a  templar,  in  modern 
phrase,  means  a  man  in  chain  mail  vowed  to  celibacy, 
and  the  redemption  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  from  the 
hands  of  the  Mussulman.  While,  since  thegn  and 
thane  are  both  archaisms,  I  prefer  the  former ;  not 
only  for  the  same  reason  that  induces  Sir  Francis 
Palgrave  to  prefer  it,  viz.,  because  it  is  the  more 
etymologically  correct;  but  because  we  take  from 
our  neighbors  the  Scotch,  not  only  the  word  thane, 
but  the  sense  in  which  we  apply  it,  and  that  sense  is 
not  the  same  that  we  ought  to  attach  to  the  various 
and  complicated  notions  of  nobility  which  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  comprehended  in  the  title  of  thegn.  It  has 
been  peremptorily  said  by  more  than  one  writer  in 
periodicals,  that  I  have  overrated  the  erudition  of 
William,  in  permitting  him  to  know  Latin ;  nay,  to 
have  read  the  Comments  of  Csesar  at  the  age  of 
eight.     Where  these  gentlemen  find  the  authorities 


Xll  PREFACE 


to  confute  my  statement  I  know  not ;  all  I  know  is, 
that  in  the  statement  I  have  followed  the  original 
authorities  usually  deemed  the  best.  And  I  content 
myself  with  referring  the  disputants  to  a  work  not 
so  difficult  to  procure  as  (and  certainly  more  pleasant 
to  read  than)  the  old  Chronicles.  In  Miss  Strick- 
land's "Lives  of  the  Queens  of  England"  (Matilda 
of  Flanders),  the  same  statement  is  made,  and  no 
doubt  upon  the  same  authorities. 

More  surprised  should  I  be  (if  modern  criticism 
had  not  taught  me  in  all  matters  of  assumption  the 
nil  admirari),  to  find  it  alleged  that  I  have  over- 
stated not  only  the  learning  of  the  Norman  duke, 
but  that  which  flourished  in  Normandy  under  his 
reign ;  for  I  should  have  thought  that  the  fact  of  the 
learning  which  sprung  up  in  the  most  thriving  period 
of  that  principality ;  the  rapidity  of  its  growth ;  the 
benefits  it  derived  from  Lanfranc;  the  encourage- 
ment it  received  from  William,  had  been  phenomena 
too  remarkable  in  the  annals  of  the  age,  and  in  the 
history  of  literature,  to  have  met  with  an  incredulity 
which  the  most  moderate  amount  of  information 
would  have  sufficed  to  dispel.  Not  to  refer  such 
skeptics  to  graver  authorities,  historical  and  eccle- 
siastical, in  order  to  justify  my  representations  of 
that  learning  which,  under  William  the  Bastard, 
made  the  schools  of  Normandy  the  popular  academies 
of  Europe,  a  page  or  two  in  a  book  so  accessible  as 
Villemain's  "  Tableau  de  Moyen  Age,"  will  perhaps 
suffice  to  convince  them  of  the  hastiness  of  their 
censure,  and  the  error  of  their  impressions. 


PREFACE.  Xili 

It  is  stated  in  the  Athenaeum,  and,  I  believe,  by  a 
writer  whose  authority  on  the  merits  of  opera-singers 
I  am  far  from  contesting,  but  of  whose  competence 
to  instruct  the  world  in  any  other  department  of 
human  industry  or  knowledge  I  am  less  persuaded, 
"  that  I  am  much  mistaken  when  I  represent  not 
merely  the  clergy,  but  the  young  soldiers  and  cour- 
tiers of  the  reign  of  the  Confessor,  as  well  acquainted 
with  the  literature  of  Greece  and  Borne." 

The  remark,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  is  disingenuous. 
I  have  done  no  such  thing.  This  general  animad- 
version is  only  justified  by  a  reference  to  the  pedantry 
of  the  Norman  Mallet  de  Graville  —  and  it  is  ex- 
pressly stated  in  the  text  that  Mallet  de  Graville 
was  originally  intended  for  the  Church,  and  that  it 
was  the  peculiarity  of  his  literary  information,  rare 
in  a  soldier  (but  for  which  his  earlier  studies  for  the 
ecclesiastical  calling  readily  account,  at  a  time  when 
the  Norman  convent  of  Bee  was  already  so  famous 
for  the  erudition  of  its  teachers,  and  the  number  of 
its  scholars),  that  attracted  towards  him  the  notice 
of  Lanfranc,  and  founded  his  fortunes.  Pedantry  is 
made  one  of  his  characteristics  (as  it  generally  was 
the  characteristic  of  any  man  with  some  pretensions 
to  scholarship,  in  the  earlier  ages) ;  and  if  he  indulges 
in  a  classical  allusion,  whether  in  taunting  a  courtier 
or . conversing  with  a  "Saxon  from  the  wealds  of 
Kent,"  it  is  no  more  out  of  keeping  with  the  pedantry 
ascribed  to  him,  than  it  is  unnatural  in  Dominie 
Sampson  to  rail  at  Meg  Merrilies  in  Latin,  or  James 
the  First  to  examine  a  young  courtier  in  the  same 

I.— 2 


dv  PREFACE. 

unfamiliar  language.  Nor  should  the  critic  in 
question,  when  inviting  his  readers  to  condemn  me 
for  making  Mallet  de  Graville  quote  Horace,  have 
omitted  to  state  that  De  Graville  expressly  laments 
that  he  had  never  read,  nor  could  even  procure  a 
copy  of  the  Eoman  poet — judging  only  of  the  merits 
of  Horace  by  an  extract  in  some  monkish  author, 
who  was  equally  likely  to  have  picked  up  his  quota- 
tion second-hand. 

So,  when  a  reference  is  made  either  by  Graville, 
or  by  any  one  else  in  the  romance,  to  Homeric  fables 
and  personages,  a  critic  who  had  gone  through  the 
ordinary  education  of  an  English  gentleman,  would 
never  thereby  have  assumed  that  the  person  so  re- 
ferring had  read  the  poems  of  Homer  themselves  — 
he  would  have  known  that  Homeric  fables,  or  per- 
sonages, though  not  the  Homeric  poems,  were  made 
familiar,  by  quaint  travesties,*  even  to  the  most 
illiterate  audience  of  the  Gothic  age.  It  was  scarcely 
more  necessary  to  know  Homer  then  than  now,  in 
order  to  have  heard  of  Ulysses.  The  writer  in  the 
Athenaeum  is  acquainted  with  Homeric  personages, 
but  who  on  earth  would  ever  presume  to  assert  that 
he  is  acquainted  with  Homer  ? 

Some  doubt  has  been  thrown  upon  my  accuracy  in 
ascribing  to  the  Anglo-Saxons  the  enjoyments  of 
certain  luxuries  (gold  and  silver  plate  —  the  use  of 

*  And  long  before  the  date  of  the  travesty  known  to  us,  and 
most  popular  amongst  our  mediaeval  ancestors,  it  might  be  shown 
that  some  rude  notion  of  Homer's  fable  and  personages  had  crept 
into  the  North. 


PREFACE.  XV 

glass,  &c.)  which  were  extremely  rare  in  an  age 
much  more  recent.  There  is  no  ground  for  that 
doubt ;  nor  is  there  a  single  article  of  such  luxury 
named  in  the  text,  for  the  mention  of  which  I  have 
not  ample  authority. 

I  have  indeed  devoted  to  this  work  a  degree  of 
research  which,  if  unusual  to  romance,  I  cannot  con- 
sider superfluous  when  illustrating  an  age  so  remote, 
and  events  unparalleled  in  their  influence  over  the 
destinies  of  England.  Nor  am  I  without  the  hope, 
that  what  the  romance-reader  at  first  regards  as  a 
defect,  he  may  ultimately  acknowledge  as  a  merit ; 
— forgiving  me  that  strain  on  his  attention  by  which 
alone  I  could  leave  distinct  in  his  memory  the  action 
and  the  actors  in  that  solemn  tragedy  which  closed 
on  the  field  of  Hastings,  over  the  corpse  of  the  Last 
Saxon  King. 


HAROLD, 

TIIE  LAST  OF  THE  SAXON"  KINGS. 
BOOK   FIRST. 

THE  NORMAN  VISITOR,  THE  SAXON  KING,  AND  THE  DANISH 

PROPHETESS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Merry  was  the  month  of  May,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1052.  Few  were  the  boys,  and  few  the  lasses,  who  over- 
slept themselves  on  the  first  of  that  buxom  month.  Long 
ere  the  dawn,  the  crowds  had  sought  mead  and  woodland, 
to  cut  poles  and  wreathe  flowers.  Many  a  mead  then  lay 
fair  and  green  beyond  the  village  of  Charing,  and  behind 
the  isle  of  Thorney  (amidst  the  brakes  and  briars  of 
which  were  then  rising  fast  and  fair  the  Hall  and  Abbey 
of  Westminster)  many  a  wood  lay  dark  in  the  star-light, 
along  the  higher  ground  that  sloped  from  the  dank 
Strand,  with  its  numerous  canals  or  dykes; — and  on 
either  side  of  the  great  road  into  Kent: — flutes  and 
horns  sounded  far  and  near  through  the  green  places,  and 
laughter  and  song,  and  the  crash  of  breaking  boughs. 
2*  B  (17) 


18  HAROLD. 

As  the  dawn  came  grey  up  the  east,  arch  and  blooming 
faces  bowed  down  to  bathe  in  the  May  dew.  Patient 
oxen  stood  dozing  by  the  hedge-rows,  all  fragrant  with 
blossoms,  till  the  gay  spoilers  of  the  May  came  forth  from 
the  woods  with  lusty  poles,  followed  by  girls  with  laps 
full  of  flowers,  which  they  had  caught  asleep.  The  poles 
were  pranked  with  nosegays,  and  a  chaplet  was  hung 
round  the  horns  of  every  ox.  Then  towards  day-break, 
the  processions  streamed  back  into  the  city,  through  all 
its  gates  ;  boys  with  their  May-gads  (peeled  willow  wands 
twined  with  cowslips)  going  before ;  and  clear  through 
the  lively  din  of  the  horns  and  flutes,  and  amidst  the 
moving  grove  of  branches,  choral  voices,  singing  some 
early  Saxon  stave,  precursor  of  the  later  song  — 

44  We  have  brought  the  summer  home." 

Often  in  the  good  old  days  before  the  MonK-king 
reigned,  kings  and  ealdermen  had  thus  gone  forth  a-may- 
ing ;  but  these  merriments,  savoring  of  heathenesse,  that 
good  prince  misliked  :  nevertheless  the  song  was  as  blithe, 
and  the  boughs  were  as  green,  as  if  king  and  ealderman 
had  walked  in  the  train. 

On  the  great  Kent  road,  the  fairest  meads  for  the  cow- 
slip, and  the  greenest  woods  for  the  bough,  surrounded 
a  large  building  that  had  once  belonged  to  some  volup- 
tuous Roman,  now  all  defaced  and  despoiled  ;  but  the 
boys  and  lasses  shunned  those  demesnes ;  and  even  in 
their  mirth,  as  they  passed  homeward  along  the  road,  and 
§aw  near  the  ruined  walls,  and  timbered  out-buildings, 


HAROLD.  19 

grey  Druid  stones  (that  spoke  of  an  age  before  either 
Saxon  or  Roman  invader,)  gleaming  through  the  dawn 
— the  song  was  hushed — the  very  youngest  crossed  them- 
selves ;  and  the  elder,  in  solemn  whispers,  suggested  the 
precaution  of  changing  the  song  into  a  psalm.  For  in 
that  o]d  building  dwelt  Hilda,  of  famous  and  dark  repute ; 
Hilda,  who,  despite  all  law  and  canon,  was  still  believed 
to  practise  the  dismal  arts  of  the  Wicca  and  Morthwyrtha 
(the  witch  and  worshipper  of  the  dead).  But  once  out 
of  sight  of  those  fearful  precincts,  the  psalm  was  for- 
gotten, and  again  broke,  loud,  clear,  and  silvery,  the 
joyful  chorus. 

So,  entering  London  about  sunrise,  doors  and  windows 
were  duly  wreathed  with  garlands ;  and  every  village  in 
the  suburbs  had  its  May-pole,  which  stood  in  its  place  all 
the  year.  On  that  happy  day,  labor  rested ;  ceorl  and 
theowe  had  alike  a  holiday  to  dance,  and  tumble  round 
the  May-pole;  and  thus,  on  the  first  of  May, —  Youth, 
and  Mirth,  and  Music,  "brought  the  summer  home." 

The  next  day,  you  might  still  see  where  the  buxom 
bands  had  been  ;  you  might  track  their  way  by  fallen 
flowers,  and  green  leaves,  and  the  deep  ruts  made  by  oxen 
(yoked  often  in  teams  from  twenty  to  forty,  in  the  wains 
that  carried  home  the  poles) ;  and  fair  and  frequent 
throughout  the  land,  from  any  eminence,  you  might  be- 
hold the  hamlet  swards  still  crowned  with  the  May  trees, 
and  the  air  still  seemed  fragrant  with  their  garlands. 

It  is  on  that  second  day  of  May,  1052,  that  my  story 
opens,  at  the  House  of  Hilda,  the  reputed  Morthwyrtba 


20  HAROLD. 

It  >tood  upon  a  gentle  and  verdant  height;  and  even 
through  all  the  barbarous  mutilation  it  had  undergone 
from  barbarian  hands,  enough  was  left  strikingly  to  con- 
trast the  ordinary  abodes  of  the  Saxon. 

The  remains  of  Roman  art  were  indeed  still  numerous 
throughout  England,  but  it  happened  rarely  that  the 
Saxon  had  chosen  his  home  amidst  the  villas  of  those 
noble  and  primal  conquerors.  Our  first  forefathers  were 
more  inclined  to  destroy  than  to  adapt. 

By  what  chance  this  building  became  an  exception  to 
the  ordinary  rule,  it  is  now  impossible  to  conjecture,  but 
from  a  very  remote  period  it  had  sheltered  successive 
races  of  Teuton  lords.  t 

The  changes  wrought  in  the  edifice  were  mournful  and 
grotesque.  What  was  now  the  Hall,  had  evidently  been 
the  atrium  ;  the  round  shield,  with  its  pointed  boss,  the 
spear,  sword,  and  small  curved  ssex  of  the  early  Teuton, 
were  suspended  from  the  columns  on  which  once  had  been 
wreathed  the  flowers  ;  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  where 
fragments  of  the  old  mosaic  still  glistened  from  the  hard- 
pressed  paving  of  clay  and  lime,  what  now  was  the  fire- 
place, had  been  the  impluvium,  and  the  smoke  went  sul- 
lenly through  the  aperture  in  the  roof,  made  of  old  to 
receive  the  rains  of  heaven.  Around  the  Hall  were  still 
left  the  old  cubicola  or  dormitories  (small,  high,  and 
lighted  but  from  the  doors),  which  now  served  for  the 
sleeping-rooms  of  the  humbler  guest  or  the  housenold 
servant ;  while  at  the  farther  end  of  the  Hall,  the  wide 
space  between  the  columns,  which  had  once  given  ample 


HAROLD.  2* 

vista  from  graceful  awnings  into  tablinum  and  viridariun^ 
was  filled  up  with  rude  rubble  and  Roman  bricks,  leaving 
but  a  low,  round,  arched  door,  that  still  led  into  the  tabli- 
num. But  that  tablinum,  formerly  the  gayest  state-room 
of  the  Roman  lord,  was  now  filled  with  various  lumber, 
piles  of  faggots,  and  farming  utensils.  On  either  side 
ol  this  desecrated  apartment,  stretched  to  the  right,  the 
old  lararium,  stripped  of  its  ancient  images  of  ancestor 
and  god ;  to  the  left,  what  had  been  the  gynoecium  (wo- 
men's apartment). 

One  side  of  the  ancient  peristyle,  which  was  of  vast 
extent,  was  now  converted  into  stabling,  sties  for  swine, 
and  stalls  for  oxen.  On  the  other  side  was  constructed 
a  Christian  chapel,  made  of  rough  oak  planks,  fastened 
by  plates  at  the  top,  and  with  a  roof  of  thatched  reeds. 
The  columns  and  wall  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  peristyle 
were  a  mass  of  ruins,  through  the  gigantic  rents  of  which 
loomed  a  grassy  hillock,  its  sides  partially  covered  with 
clumps  of  furze.  On  this  hillock  were  the  mutilated  re- 
mains of  an  ancient  Druidical  crommel,  in  the  centre  of 
which  (near  a  funeral  mound,  or  barrow,  with  the  bau- 
tastean,  or  grave-stone,  of  some  early  Saxon  chief  at  one 
end)  had  been  sacrilegiously  placed  an  altar  to  Thor,  aa 
was  apparent  both  from  the  shape,  from  a  rude,  half- 
obliterated,  sculptured  relief  of  the  god,  with  his  lifted 
hammer,  and  a  few  Runic  letters.  Amidst  the  temple 
of  the  Briton  the  Saxon  had  reared  the  shrine  of  his  tri- 
umphant war-god. 

Now  still,  amidst  the  ruins  of  that  extreme  side  of  the 


22  HAROLD. 

peristyle  which  opened  to  this  hillock  were  left,  first,  an 
ancient  Roman  fountain,  that  now  served  to  water  the 
swine,  and  next,  a  small  sacellum,  or  fane  to  Bacchus  (as 
relief  and  frieze,  yet  spared,  betokened)  :  thus  the  eye,  at 
one  survey,  beheld  the  shrines  of  four  creeds  ;  the  Druid, 
mystical  and  symbolical;  the  Roman,  sensual,  but  hu- 
mane ;  the  Teutonic,  ruthless  and  destroying ;  and,  latest 
risen  and  surviving  all,  though  as  yet  with  but  little  of  its 
gentler  influence  over  the  deeds  of  men,  the  edifice  of  the 
Faith  of  Peace. 

Across  the*peristyle,  theowes  and  swineherds  passed  to 
and  fro: — in  the  atrium,  men  of  a  higher  class,  half 
armed,  were,  some  drinking,  some  at  dice,  some  playing 
with  huge  hounds,  or  caressing  the  hawks  that  stood 
grave  and  solemn  on  their  perches. 

The  lararium  was  deserted  ;  the  gyncecium  was  still,  as 
In  the  Roman  time,  the  favored  apartment  of  the  female 
portion  of  the  household,  and  indeed  bore  the  same 
name,*  —  and  with  the  group  there  assembled  we  have 
now  to  do. 

The  appliances  of  the  chamber  showed  the  rank  and 
wealth  of  the  owner.  At  that  period  the  domestic 
luxury  of  the  rich  was  infinitely  greater  than  has  been 
generally  supposed.  The  industry  of  the;women  deco- 
rated wall  and  furniture  with  needlework  and  hangings: 
and  as  a  Thegn  forfeited  his  rank  if  he  lost  his  lands,  so 
the  higher  orders  of  an  aristocracy  rather  of  wealth  than 

*  "The  apartment  in  which  the  Anglo-Saxon  women  lived,  was 
tailed  Gynecium." — Fosbrooke,  vol.  ii.  p.  570.  » 


HAROLD.  23 

birth,  had,  usually,  a  certain  portion  of  superfluous  riches, 
which  served  to  flow  towards  the  bazaars  of  the  East 
and  the  nearer  markets  of  Flanders  and  Saracenic  Spain. 
In  this  room  the  walls  were  draped  with  silken  hang- 
ings richly  embroidered.  The  single  window  was  glazed 
with  a  dull  grey  glass.*  On  a  beaufet  were  ranged  horns 
tipped  with  silver,  and  a  few  vessels  of  pure  gold.  A 
small  circular  table  in  the  centre  was  supported  by  sym- 
bolical monsters  quaintly  carved.  At  one  side  of  the 
wall,  on  a  long  settle,  some  half-a-dozen  handmaids  were 
employed  in  spinning  ;  remote  from  them,  and  near  the 
window,  sat  a  woman  advanced  in  years,  and  of  a  mien 
and  aspect  singularly  majestic.  Upon  a  small  tripod  be- 
fore her  was  a  Runic  manuscript,  and  an  inkstand  of  ele- 
gant form,  with  a  silver  graphium,  or  pen.  At  her  feet 
reclined  a  girl  somewhat  about  the  age  of  sixteen,  her 
long  fair  hair  parted  across  her  forehead  and  falling  far 
down  her  shoulders.  Her  dress  was  a  linen  under  tunic, 
with  long  sleeves,  rising  high  to  the  throat,  and  without 
one  of  the  modern  artificial  restraints  of  the  shape,  the 
simple  belt  sufficed  to  show  the  slender  proportions  and 

*  Glass,  introduced  about  the  time  of  Bede,  was  more  common 
then  in  the  houses  of  the  wealthy,  whether  for  vessels  or  windows, 
than  in  the  much  later  age  of  the  gorgeous  Plantagenets.  Alfred, 
In  one  of  his  poems,  introduces  glass  as  a  familiar  illustration  :  — > 

"So  oft  the  mild  sea 
With  south  wind 
As  grey  glass  clear  ^ 

Becomes  grimly  troubled-" 

Sharon  Turner. 


£4  HAROLD. 

delicate  outline  of  the  wearer.  The  color  of  the  dresa 
was  of  the  purest  white,  but  its  hems,  or  borders,  were 
richly  embroidered.  This  girl's  beauty  was  something 
marvellous.  In  a  land  proverbial  for  fair  women,  it  had 
already  obtained  her  the  name  of  "  the  fair."  In  that 
beauty  were  blended,  not  as  yet  without  a  struggle  for 
mastery,  the  two  expressions  seldom  united  in  one 
countenance,  the  soft  and  the  noble ;  indeed  in  the  whole 
aspect  there  was  the  evidence  of  some  internal  struggle  ; 
the  intelligence  was  not  yet  complete  ;  the  soul  and  heart 
were  not  yet  united  :  and  Edith  the  Christian  maid  dwelt 
in  the  home  of  Hilda  the  heathen  prophetess.  The  girPs 
blue  eyes,  rendered  dark  by  the  shade  of  their  long  lashes, 
were  fixed  intently  upon  the  stern  and  troubled  counte- 
nance which  was  bent  upon  her  own,  but  bent  with  that 
abstract  gaze  which  shows  that  the  soul  is  absent  from 
the  sight.  So  sate  Hilda,  and  so  reclined  her  grandchild 
Edith. 

"  Grandma,"  said  the  girl  in  a  low  voice  and  after  a 
long  pause ;  and  the  sound  of  her  voice  so  startled  the 
handmaids,  that  every  spindle  stopped  for  a  moment  and 
then  plied  with  renewed  activity  ;  "  Grandma,  what  trou- 
bles you  —  are  you  not  thinking  of  the  great  Earl  and 
his  fair  sons,  now  outlawed  far  over  the  wide  seas  ?  v 

As  the  girl  spoke,  Hilda  started  slightly,  like  one 
awakened  from  a  dream ;  and  when  Edith  had  concluded 
her  question,  she  rose  slowly  to  the  height  of  a  statue, 
unbowed  by  her  years,  and  far  towering  above  even  the 
ordinary  standard  of  men  ;  and  turning  from  the  child, 


HAROLD.  25 

her  eye  fell  upon  the  row  of  silent  maids,  each  at  her 
rapid,  noiseless,  stealthy  work.  "  Ho  !  "  said  she  ;  hev 
cold  and  haughty  eye  gleaming  as  she  spoke ;  "  yester- 
day, they  brought  home  the  summer — to-day,  ye  aid  to 
bring  home  the  winter.  Weave  well  —  heed  well  warf 
and  woof;  Skulda*  is  amongst  ye,  and  her  pale  fingers 
guide  the  web  ! " 

The  maidens  lifted  not  their  eyes,  though  in  every 
cheek  the  color  paled  at  the  words  of  the  mistress.  The 
spindles  revolved,  the  thread  shot,  and  again  there  was 
silence  more  freezing  than  before. 

"Askest  thou,"  said  Hilda  at  length,  passing  to  the 
child,  as  if  the  question  so  long  addressed  to  her  ear  had 
only  just  reached  her  mind ;  "  askest  thou  if  I  thought 
of  the  Earl  and  his  fair  sons  ?  —  yea,  I  heard  the  smith 
welding  arms  on  the  anvii,  and  the  hammer  of  the  ship- 
wright shaping  strong  ribs  for  the  horses  of  the  sea.  Ere 
the  reaper  has  bound  his  sheaves,  Earl  Godwin  will  scare 
the  Normans  in  the  halls  of  the  Monk  King,  as  the  hawk 
scares  the  brood  in  the  dove-cot.  Weave  well,  heed  well 
warf  and  woof,  nimble  maidens  —  strong  be  the  texture, 
for  biting  is  the  worm." 

"  What  weave  they,  then,  good  grandmother  ?"  asked 
the  girl,  with  wonder  and  awe  in  her  soft  mild  eyes. 

"  The  winding-sheet  of  the  great !  " 

Hilda's  lips  closed,  but  her  eyes,  yet  brighter  than  be- 

*  Skulda,  the  Norma,  or  Fate,  that  presided  over  the  future. 
1—3 


26  HAROLD. 

fore,  gazed  upon  space,  and  her  pale  hand  seemed  tracing 
letters,  like  runes,  in  the  air. 

Then  slowly  she  turned,  and  looked  forth  through  the 
dull  window.  "  Give  me  my  coverchief  and  my  staff," 
said  she,  quickly. 

Every  one  of  the  handmaids,  blithe  for  excuse  to  quit 
a  task  which  seemed  recently  commenced,  and  was  cer- 
tainly not  endeared  to  them  by  the  knowledge  of  its  par- 
pose  communicated  to  them  by  the  lady,  rose  to  obey. 

Unheeding  the  hands  that  vied  with  each  other,  Hilda 
took  the  hood,  and  drew  it  partially  over  her  brow. 
Leaning  lightly  on  a  long  staff,  the  head  of  which  formed 
a  raven,  carved  from  some  wood  stained  black,  she  passed 
into  the  hall,  and  thence  through  the  desecrated  tablinum, 
into  the  mighty  court  formed  by  the  shattered  peristyle ; 
there  she  stopped,  mused  a  moment,  and  called  on  Edith. 
The  girl  was  soon  by  her  side. 

"  Come  with  me.  There  is  a  face  you  shall  see  but 
twice  in  life  ;  —  this  day,"  —  and  Hilda  paused,  and  the 
rigid  and  almost  colossal  beauty  of  her  countenance 
softened. 

"And  when  again,  my  grandmother?" 

"  Child,  put  thy  warm  hand  in  mine.  So  !  the  vision 
darkens  from  me.  —  When  again,  saidst  thou,  Edith  ?  — 
alas,  I  know  not." 

While  thus  speaking,  Hilda  passed  slowly  by  the  Ro- 
man fountain  and  the  heathen  fane,  and  ascended  the 
little  hillock.    There,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  summit, 


HAROLD.  27 

backed  by  the  Druid  crommel  and  the  Teuton  altar,  she 
seated  herself  deliberately  on  the  sward. 

A  few  daisies,  primroses,  and  cowslips,  grew  around  : 
these  Edith  began  to  pluck.  Singing,  as  she  wove,  a 
simple  song,  that,  not  more  by  the  dialect  than  the  senti- 
ment, betrayed  its  origin  in  the  ballad  of  the  Norse,* 
which  had,  in  its  more  careless  composition,  a  character 
quite  distinct  from  the  artificial  poetry  of  the  Saxons. 
The  song  may  be  thus  imperfectly  rendered : 

"Mirrily  the  throstle  sings 
Amid  the  merivy  May, 
The  throstle  sings  but  to  my  ear; 
My  heart  is  far  away! 

Blithely  bloometh  mead  and  bank; 

And  blithely  buds  the  tree; 
And  hark !  —  they  bring  the  summer  home ! 

It  has  no  home  with  me ! 

They  have  outlaw'd  him  —  my  Summer! 

An  outlaw  far  away !  — 
The  birds  may  sing,  the  flowers  may  bloom,  — 

0,  give  me  back  my  May!" 

As  she  came  to  the  last  line,  her  soft  low  voice  seemed 
to  awaken  a  chorus  of  sprightly  horns  and  trumpets,  and 

*  The  historians  of  our  literature  have  not  done  justice  to  the 
great  influence  which  the  poetry  of  the  Danes  has  had  upon  our 
early  national  muse.  I  have  little  doubt  but  that  to  that  source 
may  be  traced  the  minstrelsy  of  our  borders,  and  the  Scottish  Low- 
lands ;  while,  even  in  the  central  counties,  the  example  and  exer- 
tions of  Canute  must  have  had  considerable  effect  on  the  taste  and 
spirit  of  our  Scops.  That  great  prince  afforded  the  amplest  encou- 
ragement to  Scandinavian  poetry,  and  Olaus  names  eight  Danish 
poets,  who  flourished  at  his  court. 


28  HAROLD. 

certain  other  wind  instruments  peculiar  to  the  music  of 
that  day.  The  hillock  bordered  the  high  road  to  Lon. 
don — which  then  wound  through  wastes  of  forest  land— 
and  now  emerging  from  the  trees  to  the, left  appeared  a 
goodly  company.  First  came  two  riders  abreast,  each 
holding  a  banner.  On  the  one  was  depicted  the  cross 
and  five  martlets,  the  device  of  Edward,  afterwards  sur- 
named  the  Confessor :  on  the  other,  a  plain  broad  cross 
with  a  deep  border  round  it,  and  the  streamer  shaped 
into  sharp  points. 

The  first  was  familiar  to  Edith,  who  dropped  her  gar- 
land to  gaze  on  the  approaching  pageant ;  the  last  was 
strange  to  her.  She  had  been  accustomed  to  see  the 
banner  of  the  great  Earl  Godwin  by  the  side  of  the  Saxon 
king ;   and  she  said,  almost  indignantly, — 

"Who  dares,  sweet  grandam,  to  place  banner  or  pen- 
non where  Earl  Godwin's  ought  to  float?" 

"Peace,"  said  Hilda,  "peace,  and  look." 

Immediately  behind  the  standard-bearers  came  two 
figures  —  strangely  dissimilar  indeed  in  mien,  in  years,  in 
bearing :  each  bore  on  his  left  wrist  a  hawk.  The  one 
was  mounted  on  a  milk-white  palfrey,  with  housings  in- 
laid with  gold  and  uncut  jewels.  Though  not  really  old 
—  for  he  was  much  on  this  side  of  sixty :  both  his  coun- 
tenance and  carriage  evinced  age.  His  complexion,  in- 
deed, was  extremely  fair,  and  his  cheeks  ruddy ;  but  the 
visage  was  long  and  deeply  furrowed,  and  from  beneath 
a  bonnet  not  dissimilar  to  those  in  use  among  the  Scotch, 
streamed  hair  long  and  white  as  snow,  mingling  with  a 


HAROLD.  29 

large  and  forked  beard.  White  seemed  his  chosen  color. 
White  was  the  upper  tunic  clasped  on  his  shoulder  with  a 
broad  ouche  or  brooch  ;  white  the  woollen  leggings  fitted 
to  somewhat  emaciated  limbs ;  and  white  the  mantle, 
though  broidered  with  a  broad  hem  of  gold  and  purple. 
The  fashion  of  his  dress  was  that  which  well  became  a 
noble  person,  but  it  suited  ill  the  somewhat  frail  and 
graceless  figure  of  the  rider.  Nevertheless,  as  Edith 
saw  him,  she  rose,  with  an  expression  of  deep  reverence 
on  her  countenance,  and  saying,  M  It  is  our  -lord  the 
king,"  advanced  some  steps  down  the  hillock,  and  there 
stood,  her  arms  folded  on  her  breast,  and  quite  forgetful, 
in  her  innocence  and  youth,  that  she  had  left  the  house 
without  the  cloak  and  coverchief  which  were  deemed  in- 
dispensable to  the  fitting  appearance  of  maid  and  matron 
when  they  were  seen  abroad. 

"  Fair  sir,  and  brother  mine,"  said  the  deep  voice  of 
the  younger  rider,  in  the  Romance  or  Norman  tongue, 
"  I  have  heard  that  the  small  people  of  whom  my  neigh- 
bors, the  Bretons,  tell  us  much,  abound  greatly  in  this 
fair  land  of  yours ;  and  if  I  were  not  by  the  side  of  one 
whom  no  creature  unassoilzed  and  unbaptized  dare  ap- 
proach, by  sweet  St.  Yalery  I  should  say — yonder  stands 
one  of  those  same  g entitles  fees  !  " 

King  Edward's  eye  followed  the  direction  of  his  com- 
panion's outstretched  hand,  and  his  quiet  brow  slightly 
contracted  as  he  beheld  the  young  form  of  Edith  stand- 
ing motionless  a  few  yards  before  him,  with  the  warm 
May  wind  lifting  and  playing  with  her  long  golden  locks. 
3* 


30  HARO 


LD. 


He  checked  his  palfrey,  and  murmured  some  Latin  words 
which  the  knight  beside  him  recognized  as  a  prayer,  and 
to  which,  doffing  his  cap,  he  added  an  Amen,  in  a  tone 
of  such  unctuous  gravity,  that  Che  royal  saint  rewarded 
him  with  a  faint  approving  smile,  and  an  affectionate 
11  Bene,  bene,  Piosissime." 

Then,  inclining  his  palfrey's  head  towards  the  knoll, 
he  motioned  to  the  girl  to  approach  him.  Edith,  with  a 
heightened  color,  obeyed,  and  came  to  the  road-side. 
The  standard-bearers  halted,  as  did  the  king  and  his  com- 
rade— the  procession  behind  halted — thirty  knights,  two 
bishops,  eight  abbots,  all  on  fiery  steeds  and  in  Norman 
garb  —  squires  and  attendants  on  foot  —  a  long  and 
pompous  retinue — they  halted  all.  Only  a  stray  hound 
or  two  broke  from  the  rest,  and  wandered  into  the  forest 
land  with  heads  trailing. 

"  Edith,  my  child,"  said  Edward,  still  in  Norman- 
French,  for  he  spoke  his  own  language  with  hesitation, 
and  the  Romance  tongue,  which  had  long  been  familiar 
to  the  higher  classes  in  England,  had,  since  his  accession, 
become  the  only  language  in  use  at  court,  and  as  such 
every  one  of  'Eorl-kind'  was  supposed  to  speak  it;  — 
"Edith,  my  child,  thou  hast  not  forgotten  my  lessons,  I 
trow ;  thou  singest  the  hymns  I  gave  thee,  and  neglectest 
not  to  wear  the  relic  round  thy  neck  ?" 

The  girl  hung  her  head,  and  spoke  not. 

"How  comes  it,  then,"  continued  the  king,  with  a 
voice  to  which  he  in  vain  endeavored  to  impart  an  accent 
of  severity,  "  how  comes  it,  0  little  one,  that  thou,  whose 


HAROLD.  31 

thoughts  should  be  lifted  already  above  this  carnal  world, 
and  eager  for  the  service  of  Mary  the  chaste  and  blessed, 
standest  thus  hoodless  and  alone  on  the  waysides,  a  mark 
for  the  eyes  of  men  ?  go  to,  it  is  naught." 

Thus  reproved,  and  in  presence  of  so  large  and  bril- 
liant a  company,  the  girl's  color  went  and  came,  her 
breast  heaved  high,  but  with  an  effort  beyond  her  age 
she  checked  her  tears,  and  said  meekly,  "  My  grandmother, 
Hilda,  bade  me  come  with  her,  and  I  came." 

"  Hilda  !"  said  the  king,  backing  his  palfrey  with  ap- 
parent perturbation,  "  but  Hilda  is  not  with  thee  ;  I  see 
her  not." 

As  he  spoke,  Hilda  rose,  and  so  suddenly  did  her  tall 
form  appear  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  that  it  seemed  as  if 
she  had  emerged  from  the  earth.  With  a  light  and  rapid 
stride  she  gained  the  side  of  her  grandchild  ;  and  after 
a  slight  and  haughty  reverence,  said,  "  Hilda  is  here ; 
what  wants  Edward  the  king  with  his  servant  Hilda  ?" 

"Nought,  nought,"  said  the  king,  hastily;  and  some- 
thing like  fear  passed  over  his  placid  countenance  ;  "  save, 
indeed,"  he  added,  with  a  reluctant  tone,  as  of  that  of  a 
man  who  obeys  his  conscience  against  his  inclination, 
"  that  I  would  pray  thee  to  keep  this  child  pure  to  thres- 
hold and  altar,  as  is  meet  for  one  whom  our  Lady,  the 
Virgin,  in  due  time,  will  elect  to  her  service." 

"  Not  so,  son  of  Etheldred,  son  of  Woden,  the  last 
descendant  of  Penda  should  live,  not  to  glide  a  ghost 
amidst  cloisters,  but  to  rock  children  for  war  in  their 
father's  shield.     Few  men  are  there  yet  like  the  men  of 


32  HAROLD. 

old ;  and  while  the  foot  of  the  foreigner  is  on  the  Saxon 
soil,  no  branch  of  the  stem  of  Woden  should  be  nipped 
in  the  leaf." 

1  "Per  la  resplendar  De*  bold  dame,"  cried  the  knight 
by  the  side  of  Edward,  while  a  lurid  flush  passed  over 
his  cheek  of  bronze  ;  "  but  thou  art  too  glib  of  tongue 
for  a  subject,  and  pratest  over-much  of  Woden  the  Paynim, 
for  the  lips  of  a  Christian  matron." 

Hilda  met  the  flashing  eye  of  the  knight  with  a  brow 
of  lofty  scorn,  on  which  still  a  certain  terror  was  visible. 

"Child,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  upon  Edith's  fair 
locks ;  "this  is  the  man  thou  shalt  see  but  twice  in  thy 
life  :  —  look  up,  and  mark  well !  " 

Edith  instinctively  raised  her  eyes,  and,  once  fixed  upon 
the  knight,  they  seemed  chained  as  by  a  spell.  His  vest, 
of  a  cramoisay  so  dark,  that  it  seemed  black  beside  the 
snowy  garb  of  the  Confessor,  was  edged  by  a  deep  band 
of  embroidered  gold  ;  leaving  perfectly  bare  his  firm,  full 
throat  —  firm  and  full  as  a  column  of  granite,  —  a  short 
jacket  or  manteline  of  fur,  pendent  from  the  shoulders, 
left  developed  in  all  its  breadth  a  breast,  that  seemed 
meet  to  stay  the  march  of  an  army ;  and  on  the  left  arm, 
curved  to  support  the  falcon,  the  vast  muscles  rose,  round 
arjd  gnarled,  through  the  close  sleeve. 

In  height,  he  was  really  but  little  above  the  stature  of 
many  of  those  present ;  nevertheless,  so  did  his  port,  his 
air,  the  nobility  of  his  large  proportions,  fill  the  eye,  that 
he  seemed  to  tower  immeasurably  above  the  rest. 

*  "  By  the  splendor  of  God." 


HAROLD.  33 

His  countenance  was  yet  more  remarkable  than  hia 
form  ;  still  in  the  prime  of  youth,  he  seemed  at  the  first 
glance  younger,  at  the  second  older,  than  he  was.  At 
the  first  glance  younger  ;  for  his  face  was  perfectly  shaven, 
without  even  the  moustache  which  the  Saxon  courtier,  in 
imitating  the  Norman,  still  declined  to  surrender;  and 
the  smooth  visage  and  bare  throat  sufficed  in  themselves 
to  give  the  air  of  youth  to  that  dominant  and  imperious 
presence.  His  small  skull-cap  left  unconcealed  his  fore- 
head, shaded  with  short  thick  hair,  uncurled,  but  black 
and  glossy  as  the  wings  of  a  raven.  It  was  on  that  fore- 
head that  time  had  set  its  trace ;  it  was  knit  into  a  frown 
over  the  eyebrows ;  lines  deep  as  furrows  crossed  its 
broad,  but  not  elevated  expanse.  That  frown  spoke  of 
hasty  ire  and  the  habit  of  stern  command  ;  those  furrows 
spoke  of  deep  thought  and  plotting  scheme  :  the  one 
betrayed  but  temper  and  circumstance  ;  the  other,  more 
noble,  spoke  of  the  character  and  the  intellect.  The  face 
was  square,  and  the  regard  lion-like  ;  the  mouth — small, 
and  even  beautiful  in  outline  —  had  a  sinister  expression 
in  its  exceeding  firmness  ;  and  the  jaw — vtfst,  solid,  as  if 
bound  in  iron  —  showed  obstinate,  ruthless,  determined 
will  ;  such  a  jaw  as  belongs  to  the  tiger  amongst  beasts, 
and  the  conqueror  amongst  men  ;  such  as  it  is  seen  in 
the  effigies  of  Caesar,  of  Cortes,  of  Napoleon. 

That   presence  was  well  calculated  to  command   the 

admiration    of  women,  not  less  than  the  awe    of  men. 

But  no  admiration  mingled  with  the  terror  that  seized  the 

girl  as   she   gazed  long  and  wistful    upon    the    knight 

3*  n 


34  HAROLD. 

The  fascination  of  the  serpent  on  the  bird  held  her  mute 
and  frozen.  $  ever  was  that  face  forgotten :  often  in 
after-life,  it  haunted  her  in  the  noonday,  it  frowned  upon 
her  dreams. 

"  Fair  child,"  said  the  knight,  fatigued  at  length  by 
the  obstinacy  of  the  gaze,  while  that  smile  peculiar  to 
th  )se  who  have  commanded  men  relaxed  his  brow,  and 
restored  the  native  beauty  to  his  lip,  "  fair  child,  learn 
not  from  thy  peevish  grandam  so  uncourteous  a  lesson  as 
hate  of  the  foreigner.  As  thou  growest  into  womanhood, 
know  that  Norman  knight  is  sworn  slave  to  lady  fair  ;  " 
and,  doffing  his  cap,  he  took  from  it  an  uncut  jewel,  set 
in  Byzantine  filagree  work.  "  Hold  out  thy  lap,  my  child  ; 
and  when  thou  hearest  the  foreigner  scoffed,  set  this 
bauble  in  thy  locks,  and  think  kindly  of  William,  Count 
of  the  Normans."* 

He  dropped  the  jewel  on  the  ground  as  he  spoke  ;  for 
Edith,  shrinking  and  unsoftened  towards  him,  held  no  lap 
to  receive  it ;  and  Hilda,  to  whom  Edward  had  been 
speaking  in  a  low  voice,  advanced  to  the  spot  and  struck 
the  jewel  with  her  staff  under  the  hoofs  of  the  King's 
palfrey. 

"  Son  of  Emma,  the  Norman  woman,  who  sent  thy 

*  It  is  noticeable  that  the  Norman  dukes  did  not  call  themselves 
Counts  or  Dukes  of  Normandy,  but  of  the  Normans ;  and  the  first 
Anglo-Norman  kings,  till  Richard  the  First,  styled  themselves  Kings 
of  the  English,  not  of  England.  In  both  Saxon  and  Norman 
chronicles,  William  usually  bears  the  title  of  Count  (Comes),  but  in 
this  tale  he  will  be  generally  called  Duke,  as  a  title  more  familiar 
to  us 


HAROLD.  35 

youth  into  exile,  trample  on  the  gifts  of  thy  Norman 
kinsman.  And  if,  as  men  say,  thou  art  of  such  gifted 
holiness  that  Heaven  grants  thy  hand  the  power  to  heal, 
and  thy  voice  the  power  to  curse,  heal  thy  country,  and 
curse  the  stranger  I  " 

She  extended  her  right  arm  to  William  as  she  spoke, 
and  such  was  the  dignity  of  her  passion,  and  such  its 
force,  that  an  awe  fell  upon  all.  Then  dropping  her  hood 
over  her  face,  she  slowly  turned  away,  regained  the  sum- 
mit of  the  knoll,  and  stood  erect  beside  the  altar  of  the 
Northern  god,  ber  face  invisible  through  the  hood  drawn 
completely  over  it,  and  her  form  motionless  as  a  statue. 

"  Ride  on/7  said  Edward,  crossing  himself. 

"Now  by  the  bones  of  St.  Yalery,"  said  William,  after 
a  pause,  in  which  his  dark  keen  eye  noted  the  gloom  upon 
the  King's  gentle  face,  "it  moves  much  my  simple  wonder 
how  even  presence  so  saintly  can  hear  without  wrath 
words  so  unleal  and  foul.  Gramercy,  'an  the  proudest 
dame  in  Normandy  (and  I  take  her  to  be  wife  to  my 
stoutest  baron,  William  Fitzosborne),  had  spoken  thus 
xo  me " 

"  Thou  wouldst  have  done  as  I,  my  brother,"  interrupted 
Edward  ;  "  prayed  to  our  Lord  to  pardon  her,  and  rode 
on  pitying." 

William's  lip  quivered  with  ire,  yet  he  curbed  the  reply 
that  sprang  to  it,  and  he  looked  with  affection  genuinely 
more  akin  to  admiration  than  scorn,  upon  his  fellow  prince. 
For,  fierce  and  relentless  as  the  Duke's  deeds  were,  his 
faith  was  notably  sincere  ;  and  while  this  made,  inrieeu. 


36  HAROLD. 

the  prince's  chief  attraction  to  the  pious  Edward,  so  on 
the  other  hand,  this  bowed  the  Duke  in  a  kind  of  involun- 
tary and  superstitious  homage  to  the  man  who  sought  to 
square  deeds  to  faith.  It  is  ever  the  case  with  stern  and 
Btormy  spirits,  that  the  meek  ones  which  contrast  them 
steal  strangely  into  their  affections.  This  principle  of 
human  nature  can  alone  account  for  the  enthusiastic  de 
votion  which  the  mild  sufferings  of  the  Savior  awoke  it 
the  fiercest  exterminators  of  the  North.  In  proportion 
often,  to  the  warrior's  ferocity,  was  his  love  to  that  Divine 
model,  at  whose  sufferings  he  wept,  to  whose  tomb  he 
wandered  barefoot,  and  whose  example  of  compassionate 
forgiveness  he  would  have  thought  himself  the  basest  of 
men  to  follow ! 

"  Now,  by  my  Halidame,  I  honor  and  love  thee,  Ed- 
ward," cried  the  Duke,  with  a  heartiness  more  frank  than 
was  usual  to  him  ;  "  and  were  I  thy  subject,  woe  to  mail 
or  woman  that  wagged  tongue  to  wound  thee  by  a  breath 
But  who  and  what  is  this  same  Hilda  ?  one  of  thy  kith 
and  kin  ? — surely  not  less  than  kingly  blood  runs  so  bold  ?n 

''William,  Men  aime,"*  said  the  King,  "it  is  true  that 
Hilda,  whom  the  saints  assoil,  is  of  kingly  blood,  though 
not  of  our  kingly  line.  It  is  feared,"  added  Edward,  in 
a  timid  whisper,  as  he  cast  a  hurried  glance  around  him, 
u  that  this  unhappy  woman  has  ever  been  more  addicted 

*  The  few  expressions  borrowed  occasionally  from  the  Romance 
tongue,  to  give  individuality^  the  speaker,  will  generally  be  trans- 
lated into  modern  French  ;  for  the  same  reason  as  Saxon  is  rendered 
Into  modern  English,  viz.  that  the  words  may  be  intelligible  to  thf 
reader.  J5s 


HAROLD.  31 

to  the  rites  of  her  pagan  ancestors  than  to  those  of  Holy 
Church  ;  and  men  do  say  that  she  hath  thus  acquired  from 
fiend  or  charm  secrets  devoutly  to  be  eschewed  by  the 
righteous.  Nathless,  let  us  rather  hope  that  her  mind  is 
somewhat  distraught  with  her  misfortunes." 

The  King  sighed,  and  the  Duke  sighed  too,  but  the 
Duke's  sigh  spoke  impatience.  He  swept  behind  him  a 
stern  and  withering  look  towards  the  proud  figure  of 
Hilda,  still  seen  through  the  glades,  and  said  in  a  sinister 
voice  :  "  Of  kingly  blood  ;  but  this  witch  of  Woden  hath 
no  sons  or  kinsmen,  I  trust,  to  pretend  to  the  throne  of 
the  Saxon?" 

"  She  is  sibbe  to  Git'ha  wife  of  Godwin,"  answered  the 
King,  "  and  that  is  her  most  perilous  connection  ;  for  the 
banished  Earl,  as  thou  knowest,  did  not  pretend  to  fill 
the  throne,  but  he  was  content  with  nought  less  than 
governing  our  people." 

The  King  then  proceeded  to  sketch  an  outline  of  the 
history  of  Hilda,  but  his  narrative  was  so  deformed  both 
by  his  superstitions  and  prejudices,  and  his  imperfect  in- 
formation in  all  the  leading  events  and  characters  in  his 
own  kingdom,  that  we  will  venture  to  take  upon  ourselves 
his  task ;  and  while  the  train  ride  on  through  glade  and 
mead,  we  will  briefly  narrate,  from  our  own  special 
sources  of  knowledge,  the  chronicle  of  Hilda,  the  Scan- 
dinavian  Yala. 


38  HAROLD. 


J 


CHAPTER    II. 

A  magnificent  race  of  men  were  those  war  sons  of  the 
old  North,  whom  our  popular  histories,  so  superficial  in 
their  accounts  of  this  age,  include  in  the  common  name 
of  the  "Danes."  They  replunged  into  barbarism  the 
nations  over  which  they  swept ;  but  from  that  barbarism 
they  reproduced  the  noblest  elements  of  civilization. 
Swede,  Norwegian,  and  Dane,  differing  in  some  minor 
points,  when  closely  examined,  "had  yet  one  common 
character  viewed  at  a  distance.  They  had  the  same  pro- 
digious  energy,  the  same  passion  for  freedom,  individual 
and  civil,  the  same  splendid  errors  in  the  thirst  for  fame 
and  the  "  point  of  honor ;  n  and  above  all,  as  a  main  cause 
of  civilization,  they  were  wonderfully  pliant  and  mallea- 
ble in  their  admixtures  with  the  people  they  overran.. 
This  is  their  true  distinction  from  the  stubborn  Celt,  who 
refuses  to  mingle,  and  disdains  to  improve. 

Frankes,  the  archbishop,  baptized  Rolf-ganger ;  *  and 
within  a  little  more  than  a  century  afterwards,  the  de- 
scendants of  those  terrible  heathens,  who  had  spared 
neither  priest  or  altar,  were  the  most  redoubtable  de- 
fenders of  the  Christian  Church  ;  their  old  language  for- 
gotten (save  by  a  few  in  the   town    of  Bayeux),  their 

*  ''Roman  de  Rou,"  part  i.  v.  1914 


HAROLD.  39 

ancestral  names*  (save  among  a  few  of  the  noblest*, 
changed  into  French  titles,  and  little  else  but  the  in- 
domitable valor  of  the  Scandinavian  remained  unaltered 
amongst  the  arts  and  manners  of  the  Frankish-Norman. 
In  like  manner  their  kindred  tribes,  who  had  poured 
into  Saxon  England,  to  ravage  and  lay  desolate,  had  no 
sooner  obtained  from  Alfred  the  Great  permanent  homes, 
than  they  became  perhaps  the  most  powerful  part  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  population,  f  At  the  time  our  story  opens, 
these  Northmen,  under  the  common  name  of  Danes,  were 

*  The  reason  why  the  Normans  lost  their  old  names  is  to  be 
found  in  their  conversion  to  Christianity.  They  were  baptized; 
and  Franks,  as  their  godfathers,  gave  them  new  appellations.  Thus, 
Charles  the  Simple  insists  that  Rolf-ganger  shall  change  his  law 
(creed),  and  his  name,  and  Rolf  or  Rou  is  christened  Robert.  A 
few  of  those  who  retained  Scandinavian  names  at  the  time  of  the 
Conquest  will  be  cited  hereafter. 

f  Thus  in  991,  about  a  century  after  the  first  settlement,  the 
Danes  of  East  Anglia  gave  the  only  efficient  resistance  to  the  host 
of  the  Vikings  under  Jnsfin  and  Gurthmund;  and  Brithnoth, 
celebrated  by  the  Saxon  poet,  as  a  Saxon,  par  excellence  the  heroic 
defender  of  his  native  soil,  was,  in  all  probability,  of  Danish  de- 
scent. Mr.  Laing,  in  his  preface  to  his  translation  of  the  Heim- 
skringla,  truly  observes,  "that  the  rebellions  against  William  the 
Conqueror,  and  his  successors,  appear  to  have  been  almost  always 
raised,  or  mainly  supported,  in  the  counties  of  recent  Danish 
descent,  not  in  those  peopled  by  the  old  Anglo-Saxon  race." 

The  portion  of  Mercia,  consisting  of  the  burghs  of  Lancaster, 
Lincoln,  Nottingham,  Stamford,  and  Derby,  became  a  Danish  State 
in  a.  D.  877  ;  —  East  Anglia,  consisting  of  Cambridge,  Suffolk,  Nor- 
folk, and  the  Isle  of  Ely,  in  a.  d.  879-80;  — and  the  vast  territory 
of  Northumbria,  extending  all  north  the  Humber,  into  all  that  part 
?f  Scotland  south  of  the  Frith,  in  a.  d.  876.  —  See  Palgrave's 
Commonwealth.  But,  beside  their  more  allotted  settlements,  the 
Danes  were  interspersed  as  land-owners  all  over  England. 


10  HAROLD. 

peaceably  settled  in  no  less  than  fifteen  *  counties  in 
England  ;  their  nobles  abounded  in  towns  and  cities  be- 
yond the  boundaries  of  those  counties  which  bore  the 
distinct  appellation  of  Danelagh.  They  were  numerous 
in  London  :  in  the  precincts  of  which  they  had  their  own 
burial-place,  to  the  chief  municipal  court  of  which  they 
gave  their  own  appellation  —  the  Hustings.f  Their 
power  in  the  national  assembly  of  the  Witan  had  decided 
the  choice  of  kings.  Thus,  with  some  differences  of  law 
and  dialect,  these  once-turbulent  invaders  had  amalga- 
mated amicably  with  the  native  race.  J  And  to  this  day, 
the  gentry,  traders,  and  farmers  of  more  than  one-third 
of  England,  and  in  those  counties  most  confessed  to  be 
hi  the  van  of  improvement,  descend,  from  Saxon  mothers 
^deed,  but  from  Yiking  fathers.  There  was  in  reality 
little  difference  in  race  between  the  Norman  knight  of 
the  time  of  Henry  I.  and  the  Saxon  franklin  of  Norfolk 
and  York.  Both  on  the  mother's  side  would  most 
probably  have  been  Saxon,  both  on  the  father's  would 
have  traced  to  the  Scandinavian. 

*  Bromton  Chron. — viz.,  Essex,  Middlesex,  Suffolk,  Norfolk, 
Herts,  Cambridgeshire,  Hants,  Lincoln,  Notts,  Derby,  Northamp- 
ton, Leicestershire,  Bucks,  Beds,  and  the  vast  territory  called 
Northumbria. 

j-  Palgrave's  History  of  England,  p.  315. 

J  The  laws  collected  by  Edward  the  Confessor,  and  in  later  times 
so  often  and  so  fondly  referred  to,  contain  many  introduced  by  the 
Danes,  which  had  grown  poplar  with  the  Saxon  people.  Much 
which  we  ascribe  to  the  Norman  Conqueror,  pre-existed  in  the 
Anglo-Danish,  and  may  be  found  both  in  Normandy,  and  parts  of 
Scandinavia,  to  this  day. — See  Hakewell's  Treatise  on  the  Anti~ 
quity  of  Laws  in  this  Island,  in  Hearne's  Curious  Discourses. 


A 


HAROLD.  4\ 


But  though  this  character  of  adaptability  was  general, 
exceptions  in  some  points  were  necessarily  found,  and 
these  were  obstinate  in  proportion  to  the  adherence  to 
the  old  pagan  faith,  or  the  sincere  conversion  to  Christi- 
anity. The  Norwegian  chronicles,  and  passages  in  our 
own  history,  show  how  false  and  hollow  was  the  assumed 
Christianity  of  many  of  those  fierce  Odin-worshippers. 
They  willingly  enough  accepted  the  outward  sign  of 
baptism,  but  the  holy  water  changed  little  of  the  inner 
man.  Even  Harold,  the  son  of  Canute,  scarce  seventeen 
years  before  the  date  we  have  now  entered,  being  unable 
to  obtain  from  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury — who  had 
espoused  the  cause  of  his  brother  Hardicanute — the  con- 
secrating benediction,  lived  and  reigned  as  one  "  who  had 
abjured  Christianity."* 

The  priests,  especially  on  the  Scandinavian  continent, 
were  often  forced  to  compound  with  their  grim  converts, 
by  indulgence  to  certain  habits,  such  as  indiscriminate 
polygamy.  To  eat  horse-flesh  in  honor  of  Odin,  and  to 
marry  wives  ad  libitum,  were  the  main  stipulations  of  the 
neophytes.  And  the  puzzled  monks,  often  driven  to  a 
choice,  yielded  the  point  of  the  wives,  but  stood  firm  on 
the  graver  article  of  the  horse-flesh. 

With  their  new  religion,  very  imperfectly  understood, 
even  when  genuinely  received,  they  retained  all  that  host 
of  heathen  superstition  which  knits  itself  with  the  most 
obstinate  instincts  in  the  human  breast.    Not  many  yea  s 


*  Palgrave's  History  of  England,  p.  322. 
4* 


42  HAROLD. 

before  the  reign  of  the  Confessor,  the  laws  of  the  great 
Canute  against  witchcraft  and  charms,  the  worship  of 
stones,  fountains,  runes  by  ash  and  elm,  and  the  incanta- 
tions that  do  homage  to  the  dead,  were  obviously  rather 
intended  to  apply  to  the  recent  Danish  converts,  than  to 
the  Anglo-Saxons,  already  subjugated  for  centuries,  body 
and  soul,  to  the  domination  of  the  Christian  monks. 

Hilda,  a  daughter  of  the  royalty  of  Denmark,  and 
cousin  to  Githa  (niece  to  Canute,  whom  that  king  had 
bestowed  in  second  spousals  upon  Godwin),  had  come 
over  to  England  with  a  fierce  Jarl,  her  husband,  a  year 
after  Canute's  accession  to  the  throne — both  converted 
nominally,  both  secretly  believers  in  Thor  and  Odin. 

Hilda's  husband  had  fallen  in  one  of  the  actions  in  the 
Northern  seas,  between  Canute  and  St.  Olave,  King  of 
Norway  (that  saint  himself,  by  the  bye,  a  most  ruthless 
persecutor  of  his  forefathers'  faith,  and  a  most  unqualified 
practical  asserter  of  his  heathen  privilege  to  extend  his 
domestic  affections  beyond  the  severe  pale  which  should 
have  confined  them  to  a  single  wife.  His  natural  son 
Magnus  then  sat  on  the  Danish  throne).  The  Jarl  died 
as  he  had  wished  to  die,  the  last  man  on  board  his  ship, 
with  the  soothing  conviction  that  the  Valkyrs  would  bear 
him  to  Valhalla. 

Hilda  was  left  with  an  only  daughter,  whom  Canute 
bestowed  on  Ethelwolf,  a  Saxon  earl  of  large  domains, 
and  tracing  his  descent  from  Penda,  that  old  king  of 
Mercia  who  refused  to  be  converted,  but  said  so  discreetly, 
"that  he  had  no  objection  to  his  neighbors  being  Chris- 


HAROLD.  43 

tians,  if  they  would  practise  that  peace  and  forgiveness 
which  the  monks  told  him  were  the  elements  of  the  faith." 

Ethelwolf  fell  under  the  displeasure  of  Hardicanute, 
perhaps  because  he  was  more  Saxon  than  Danish  ;  and 
though  that  savage  king  did  not  dare  openly  to  arraign 
him  before  the  Witan,  he  gave  secret  orders  by  which  he 
was  butchered  on  his  own  hearth-stone,  in  the  arms  of  his 
wife,  who  died  shortly  afterwards  of  grief  and  terror. 
The  only  orphan  of  this  unhappy  pair,  Edith,  was  thus 
consigned  to  the  charge  of  Hilda. 

It  was  a  necessary  and  invaluable  characteristic  of  that 
"adaptability"  which  distinguished  the  Danes,  that  they 
transferred  to  the  land  in  which  they  settled  all  the  love 
they  had  borne  to  that  of  their  ancestors  ;  and  so  far  as 
attachment  to  soil  was  concerned,  Hilda  had  grown  no 
ess  in  heart  an  Englishwoman,  than  if  she  had  been  born 
and  reared  amidst  the  glades  and  knolls  from  which  the 
smoke  of  her  hearth  rose  through  the  old  Roman  com- 
pluvium. 

But  in  all  else  she  was  a  Dane.  Dane  in  her  creed  and 
her  habits  —  Dane  in  her  intense  and  brooding  imagina- 
tion—  in  the  poetry  that  filled  her  soul,  peopled  the  air 
with  spectres,  and  covered  the  leaves  of  the  trees  with 
charms.  Living  in  austere  seclusion  after  the  death  of 
her  lord,  to  whom  she  had  borne  a  Scandinavian  woman's 
devoted  but  heroic  love, — sorrowing  indeed  for  his  death, 
but  rejoicing  that  he  fell  amidst  the  feast  of  ravens, — her 
mind  settled  more  and  more,  year  by  year,  and  day  by 
day,  upon  those  visions  of  the  unknown  world,  which,  in 


44  HAROLD. 

every  faith,  conjure  up  the  companions  of  solitude  and 
grief. 

Witchcraft  in  the  Scandinavian  North  assumed  many 
forms,  and  was  connected  by  many  degrees.  There  was 
the  old  and  withered  hag,  on  whom,  in  our  later  mediaeval 
ages,  the  character  was  mainly  bestowed ;  there  was  the 
terrific  witch-wife,  or  wolf- witch,  who  seems  wholly  apart 
from  human  birth  and  attributes,  like  the  weird  sisters  of 
Macbeth — creatures  who  entered  the  house  at  night,  and 
seized  warriors  to  devour  them,  who  might  be  seen  gliding 
over  the  sea,  with  the  carcase  of  the  wolf  dripping  blood 
from  their  giant  jaws  ;  and  there  was  the  more  serene, 
classical,  and  awful  vala,  or  sibyl,  who,  honored  by  chiefs 
and  revered  by  nations,  foretold  the  future,  and  advised 
the  deeds  of  heroes.  Of  these  last,  the  Norse  chronicles 
tell  us  much.  They  were  often  of  rank  and  wealth,  they 
were  accompanied  by  trains  of  handmaids  and  servants — - 
kings  led  them  (when  their  counsel  was  sought)  to  the 
place  of  honor  in  the  hall — and  their  heads  were  sacred, 
as  those  of  ministers  to  the  gods. 

This  last  state  in  the  grisly  realm  of  the  Wig-laer 
(wizard-lore)  was  the  one  naturally  appertaining  to  the 
high  rank,  and  the  soul  lofty  though  blind  and  perverted, 
of  the  daughter  of  warrior-kings.  All  practice  of  the 
art  to  which  now  for  long  years  she  had  devoted  herself, 
that  touched  upon  the  humble  destinies  of  the  vulgar, 
the  child  of  Odin*  haughtily  disdained.     Her  reveries 

*  The  name  of  this  god  is  spelt  Odin,  when  referred  to  as  the 
object  of  Scandinavian  worship;  Woden,  when  applied  directly  to 
the  deity  of  the  Saxons. 


HAROLD.  45 

were  upon  the  fate  of  kings  and  kingdoms ;  she  aspired 
to  save  or  to  rear  the  dynasties  which  should  rule  the 
races  yet  unborn.  In  youth  proud  and  ambitious,  — 
common  faults  with  her  countrywomen, — on  her  entrance 
into  the  darker  world,  she  carried  with  her  the  prejudices 
and  passions  that  she  had  known  in  that  colored  by  the 
external  sun. 

All  her  human  affections  were  centered  in  her  grand- 
child Edith,  the  last  of  a  race  royal  on  either  side.  Her 
researches  into  the  future  had  assured  her,  that  the  life 
and  death  of  this  fair  child  were  entwined  with  the  fates 
of  a  king,  and  the  same  oracles  had  intimated  a  myste- 
ous  and  inseparable  connection  between  her  own  shat- 
Bved  house  and  the  flourishing  one  of  Earl  Godwin,  the 
spouse  of  her  kinswoman  Githa  ;  so  that  with  this  great 
family  she  was  intimately  bound  by  the  links  of  super- 
stition as  by  the  ties  of  blood.  The  eldest-born  of  God- 
win, Sweyn,  had  been  at  first  especially  her  care  and  her 
favorite ;  and  he,  of  more  poetic  temperament  than  his 
brothers,  had  willingly  submitted  to  her  influence.  But 
of  all  the  brethren,  as  will  be  seen  hereafter,  the  career 
of  Sweyn  had  been  most  noxious  and  ill-omened,  and  at 
that  moment,  while  the  rest  of  the  house  carried  with  it 
into  exile  the  deep  and  indignant  sympathy  of  England, 
no  man  said  of  Sweyn,  "  God  bless  him  !  " 

But  as  the  second  son,  Harold,  had  grown  from  child- 
hood into  youth,  Hilda  had  singled  him  out  with  a  pre- 
ference even  more  marked  than  that  she  had  bestowed   g 
upon  Sweyn.     The  stars  and  the  runes  assured  her  of  his 


46  HAROLD 

future  greatness,  and  the  qualities  and  talents  of  the 
young  Earl  had,  at  the  very  onset  of  his  career,  con 
firmed  the  accuracy  of  their  predictions.  Her  interest  in 
Harold  became  the  more  intense,  partly  because  whenever 
she  consulted  the  future  for  the  lot  of  her  grandchild 
Edith,  she  invariably  found  it  associated  with  the  fate  of 
Harold  —  partly  because  all  her  arts  had  failed  to  pene- 
trate beyond  a  certain  point  of  their  joint  destinies,  and 
left  her  mind  agitated  and  perplexed  between  hope  and 
terror.  As  yet,  however,  she  had  wholly  failed  in  gain- 
ing any  ascendency  over  the  young  Earl's  vigorous  and 
healthful  mind ;  and  though  before  his  exile,  he  came 
more  often  than  any  of  Godwin's  sons  to  the  old  Roman 
house,  he  had  smiled  with  proud  incredulity  at  her  vague 
prophecies,  and  rejected  all  her  offers  of  aid  from  invisi- 
ble agencies  with  the  calm  reply — "The  brave  man  wants 
no  charms  to  encourage  him  to  his  duty,  and  the  good 
man  scorns  all  warnings  that  would  deter  him  from  ful- 
filling it." 

Indeed,  though  Hilda's  magic  was  not  of  the  malevo- 
lent kind,  and  sought  the  source  of  its  oracles  not  in 
fiends  but  gods  (at  least  the  gods  in  whom  she  believed) 
it  was  noticeable  that  all  over  whom  her  influence  had 
prevailed  had  come  to  miserable  and  untimely  ends ;  — 
not  alone  her  husband  and  her  son-in-law  (both  of  whom 
had  been  as  wax  to  her  counsel),  but  such  other  chiefs  as 
rank  or  ambition  permitted  to  appeal  to  her  lore.  Ne- 
vertheless, such  was  the  ascendency  she  had  gained  over 
the  popular  mind,  that  it  would  have  beer  dangerous  in 


HAROLD.  47 

the  highest  degree  to  put  into  execution  against  her  the 
laws  condemnatory  of  witchcraft.  In  her,  all  the  more 
powerful  Danish  families  reverenced,  and  would  have 
protected,  the  blood  of  their  ancient  kings,  and  the  widow 
of  one  of  their  most  renowned  heroes.  Hospitable,  liberal, 
and  beneficent  to  the  poor,  and  an  easy  mistress  over 
numerous  ceorls,  while  the  vulgar  dreaded,  they  would 
yet  have  defended  her.  Proofs  of  her  art  it  would  have 
been  hard  to  establish  ;  hosts  of  compurgators  to  attest 
her  innocence  would  have  sprung  up.  Even  if  subjected 
to  the  ordeal,  her  gold  could  easily  have  bribed  the  priests 
with  whom  the  power  of  evading  its  dangers  rested.  And 
with  that  worldly  wisdom  which  persons  of  genius  in  their 
wildest  chimeras  rarely  lack,  she  had  already  freed  her- 
self from  the  chance  of  active  persecution  from  the 
Church,  by  ample  donations  to  all  the  neighboring  mo- 
nasteries. 

Hilda,  in  fine,  was  a  woman  of  sublime  desires  and 
extraordinary  gifts  ;  terrible,  indeed,  but  as  the  passive 
agent  of  the  Fates  she  invoked,  and  rather  commanding 
for  herself  a  certain  troubled  admiration,  and  mysterious 
pity ;  no  fiend-hag,  beyond  humanity,  in  malice  and  in 
power,  but  essentially  human,  even  when  aspiring  most 
to  the  secrets  of  a  god.  Assuming,  for  the  moment,  that 
by  the  aid  of  intense  imagination,  persons  of  a  peculiar 
idiosyncrasy  of  nerves  and  temperament  might  attain  to 
such  dim  affinities  with  a  world  beyond  our  ordinary 
senses,  as  forbid  entire  rejection  of  the  magnetism  and 
magic  of  old  times — it  was  on  no  foul  and  mephitic  pool, 


48  HAROLD. 

overhung  with  the  poisonous  night-shade,  and  excluded 
from  the  beams  of  heaven,  but  on  the  living  stream  on 
which  the  star  trembled,  and  beside  whose  banks  the 
green  herbage  waved,  that  the  demon  shadows  fell  dark 
and  dread. 

Thus  safe  and  thus  awful,  lived  Hilda ;  and  under  her 
care,  a  rose  beneath  the  funereal  cedar,  bloomed  her 
grandchild  Edith,  goddaughter  of  the  Lady  of  England. 

It  was  the  anxious  wish,  both  of  Edward  and  his  virgin 
wife,  pious  as  himself,  to  save  this  orphan  from  the  con- 
tamination of  a  house  more  than  suspected  of  heathen 
faith,  and  give  to  her  youth  the  refuge  of  the  convent. 
But  this,  without  her  guardian's  consent  or  her  own  ex- 
oressed  will,  could  not  be  legally  done  ;  and  Edith  as  yet 
/tad  expressed  no  desire  to  disobey  her  grandmother,  who 
treated  the  idea  of  the  convent  with  lofty  scorn. 

This  beautiful  child  grew  up  under  the  influence,  as  it 
were,  of  two  contending  creeds ;  all  her  notions  on  both 
were  necessarily  confused  and  vague.  But  her  heart  was 
so  genuinely  mild,  simple,  tender,  and  devoted,  —  there 
was  in  her  so  much  of  the  inborn  excellence  of  the  sex, 
that  in  every  impulse  of  that  heart  struggled  for  clearer 
light  and  for  purer  air  the  unquiet  soul.  In  manner,  in 
thought,  and  iu  person,  as  yet  almost  an  infant,  deep  in 
her  heart  lay  yet  one  woman's  secret,  known  scarcely  to 
herself,  but  which  taught  her,  more  powerfully  than  Hilda's 
proud  and  scoffing  tongue,  to  shudder  at  the  thought  of 
the  barren  cloister  and  the  eternal  vow. 


HAROLD.  49 


CHAPTER   III. 

While  King  Edward  was  narrating  to  the  Norman 
Duke  all  that  he  knew,  and  all  that  he  knew  not,  of 
Hilda's  history  and  secret  arts,  the  road  wound  through 
lands  as  wild  and  wold-like  as  if  the  metropolis  of  Eng- 
land lay  a  hundred  miles  distant.  Even  to  this  day, 
patches  of  such  land  in  the  neighborhood  of  Norwood, 
may  betray  what  the  country  was  in  the  old  time  : — when 
a  mighty  forest,  *  abounding  with  wild  beasts' — '  the  bull 
and  the  boar' —  skirted  the  suburbs  of  London,  and  af- 
forded pastime  to  king  and  thegn.  For  the  Norman  kings 
have  been  maligned  by  the  popular  notion,  that  assigns 
to  them  all  the  odium  of  the  forest  laws.  Harsh  and 
severe  were  those  laws  in  the  reign  of  the  Anglo-Saxon ; 
as  harsh  and  severe,  perhaps,  against  the  ceorl  and  the 
poor  man,  as  in  the  days  of  Rufus,  though  more  mild 
unquestionably  to  the  nobles.  To  all  beneath  the  rank 
of  abbot  and  thegn,  the  king's  woods  were  made,  even 
by  the  mild  Confessor,  as  sacred  as  the  groves  of  the 
Druids  :  and  no  less  penalty  than  loss  of  life  was  incurred 
by  the  low-born  huntsman  who  violated  their  recesses. 

Edward's  only  mundane  passion  was  the  chase  ;  and  a 
•Jay  rarely  passed,  but  what  after  mass  he  went  forth  with 
hawk  or  hound.     So  that,  though  the  regular  season  for 

I. —5  d 


50  HAROLD. 

hawking  did  not  commence  till  October,  he  had  ever  on 
his  wrist  some  young  falcon  to  essay,  or  some  old  favorite 
to  exercise.  And  now,  just  as  William  was  beginning  to 
grow  weary  of  his  good  cousin's  prolix  recitals,  the  hound  i 
suddenly  gave  tongue,  and  from  a  sedge-grown  pool  by 
the  way-side,  with  solemn  wing  and  harsh  boom,  rose  a 
bittern. 

14  Holy  St.  Peter  !  "  exclaimed  the  Saint  king,  spurring 
his  palfrey,  and  loosing  his  famous  Peregrine  falcon.* 
William  was  not  slow  in  following  that  animated  exam- 
ple, and  the  whole  company  rode  at  half  speed  across 
the  rough  forest-land,  straining  their  eyes  upon  the  soar- 
ing quarry,  and  the  large  wheels  of  the  falcons.  Riding 
thus,  with  his  eyes  in  the  air,  Edward  was  nearly  pitched 
over  his  palfrey's  head,  as  the  animal  stopped  suddenly, 
checked  by  a  high  gate,  set  deep  in  a  half-embattled  wall 
of  brick  and  rubble.  Upon  this  gate  sat,  quite  unmoved 
and  apathetic,  a  tall  ceorl,  or  laborer,  while  behind  it  was 
a  gazing  curious  group  of  men  of  the  same  rank,  clad  in 
those  blue  tunics  of  which  our  peasant's  smock  is  the 
successor,  and  leaning  on  scythes  and  flails.  Sour  and 
ominous  were  the  looks  they  bent  upon  that  Norm  an 
cavalcade.  The  men  were  at  least  as  well  clad  as  inose 
of  the  same  condition  are  now  ;  and  their  robust  Yiml  i 
and  ruddy  cheeks  showed  no  lack  of  the  fare  that  sup- 
ports labor.     Indeed,  the  working-man  of  that  day,  if  not 

*  The  Peregrine  hawk  built  on  the  rocks  of  Llandudno,  and  this 
breed  was  celebrated,  even  to  the  days  of  Elizaleth.  Burleigb 
thanks  one  of  the  Mostyns  for  a  cast  of  hawks  from  Llandudno. 


HAROLD.  51 

one  of  the  absolute  theowes,  or  slaves,  was,  physically 
speaking,  better  off,  perhaps,  than  he  has  ever  since  been 
in  England,  more  especially  if  he  appertained  to  some 
wealthy  thegn  of  pure  Saxon  lineage,  whose  very  title  of 
lord  came  to  him  in  his  quality  of  dispenser  of  bread  ;  * 
and  these  men  had  been  ceorls  under  Harold,  son  of  God- 
win, now  banished  from  the  land. 

"  Open  the  gate,  open  quick,  my  merry  men,"  said  the 
gentle  Edward  (speaking  in  Saxon,  though  with  a  strong 
foreign  accent),  after  he  had  recovered  his  seat,  murmured 
a  benediction,  and  crossed  himself  three  times.  The  men 
stirred  not. 

"  No  horse  tramps  the  seeds  we  have  sown  for  Harold 
the  Earl  to  reap  ;  "  said  the  ceorl  doggedly,  still  seated 
on  the  gate.  And  the  group  behind  him  gave  a  shout 
of  applause. 

Moved  more  than  ever  he  had  been  known  to  be  be- 
fore, Edward  spurred  his  steed  up  to  the  boor,  and  lifted 
his  hand.  At  that  signal,  twenty  swords  flashed  in  the 
air  behind,  as  the  Norman  nobles  spurred  to  the  place. 
Putting  back  with  one  hand  his  fierce  attendants,  Edward 
shook  the  other  at  the  Saxon.  "  Knave,  knave,"  he  cried, 
"I  would  hurt  you,  if  I  could!" 

There  was  something  in  these  words,  fated  to  drift 
down  into  history,  at  once  ludicrous  and  touching.  The 
Normans  saw  them  only  in  the  former  light,  and  turned 


*  Hlaf,  loaf,  —  Hlaford,  lord,  giver  of  bread ;  Hleafdian,  lady, 
server  of  bread.  —  Verstegak 


52  HAROLD. 

aside  to  conceal  their  laughter ;  the  Saxon  felt  them  in 
the  latter  and  truer  sense,  and  stood  rebuked.  That 
great  king,  whom  he  now  recognized,  with  all  those 
drawn  swords  at  his  back,  could  not  do  him  hurt;  that 
king  had  not  the  heart  to  hurt  him.  The  ceorl  sprang 
from  the  gate,  and  opened  it,  bending  low. 

"  Ride  first,  Count  William,  my  cousin,"  said  the  king, 
calmly. 

The  Saxon  ceorPs  eyes  glared  as  he  heard  the  Nor- 
man's name  uttered  in  the  Norman  tongue,  but  he  kept 
open  the  gate,  and  the  train  passed  through,  Edward 
lingering  last.     Then  said  the  king,  in  a  low  voice, — 

''Bold  man,  thou  spokest  of  Harold  the  Earl  and  his 
harvests;  knowest  thou  not  that  his  lands  have  passed 
from  him,  and  that  he  is  outlawed,  and  his  harvests  are 
not  for  the  scythes  of  his  ceorls  to  reap  ?  " 

"  May  it  please  you,  dread  Lord  and  King,"  replied 
the  Saxon,  simply,  "  these  lands  that  were  Harold  the 
EarPs,  are  now  Clapa's,  the  sixhsendman's." 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  quoth  Edward,  hastily  ;  "  we  gave 
them  neither  to  sixhaendman  nor  to  Saxon.  All  the 
lands  of  Harold  hereabout  were  divided  amongst  sacred 
abbots  and  noble  chevaliers  —  Normans  all." 

"  Fulke  the  Norman  had  these  fair  fields,  yon  orchards 
and  tynen  ;  Fulke  sold  them  to  Clapa,  the  EarPs  sixhasnd- 
man,  and  what  in  mancusses  and  pence  Clapa  lacked  of 
the  price,  we,  the  ceorls  of  the  Earl,  made  up  from  our 
own  earnings  in  the  EarPs  noble  service.    And  this  very 


HAROLD.  53 

day,  in  token  thereof,  have  we  quaffed  the  bedden-ale.* 
Wherefore,  please  God  and  our  Lady,  we  hold  these 
lands  part  and  parcel  with  Clapa  ;  and  when  Earl  Harold 
comes  again,  as  come  he  will,  here  at  least  he  will  have 
his  own." 

Edward,  who,  despite  a  singular  simplicity  of  character, 
which  at  times  seemed  to  border  on  imbecility,  was  by  no 
means  wanting  in  penetration  when  his  attention  was 
fairly  roused,  changed  countenance  at  this  proof  of  rough 
and  homely  affection  on  the  part  of  these  men  to  his 
banished  earl  and  brother-in-law.  He  mused  a  little 
while  in  grave  thought,  and  then  said,  kindly  — 

**  Well,  man,  I  think  not  the  worse  of  you  for  loyal 
love  to  your  thegn,  but  there  are  those  who  would  do  so, 
and  I  advise  you,  brother-like,  that  ears  and  nose  are  in 
peril  if  thou  talkest  thus  indiscreetly." 

"  Steel  to  steel,  and  hand  to  hand,"  said  the  Saxon, 
bluntly,  touching  the  long  kuife  in  his  leathern  belt,  "  and 
he  who  sets  gripe  on  Sexwolf,  son  of  Elf  helm,  shall  pay 
his  weregeld  twice,  over." 

11  Forewarned,  foolish  man,  thou  art  forewarned. 
Peace,"  said  the  king ;  and,  shaking  his  head,  he  rode 
on  to  join  the  Normans,  who  now,  in  a  broad  field,  where 
the  corn  sprang  green,  and  which  they  seemed  to  delight 
in  wantonly  trampling,  as  they  curveted  their  steeds  to 

*  Bedden-ale.  When  any  man  was  set  up  in  his  estate  by  the 
contributions  of  his  friends,  those  friends  were  bid  to  a  feast,  and 
the  ale  so  drunk  was  called  the  bedden-ale,  from  bedden,  to  pray, 
or  to  bid.  —  (See  Brand's  Pop.  Antiq.) 

5* 


54  HAROLD. 

and  fro,  watched  the  movements  of  the  bittern  and  the 
pursuit  of  the  two  falcons. 

"A  wager,  Lord  King !  "  said  a  prelate,  whose  strong 
family  likeness  to  William  proclaimed  him  to  be  the  duke's 
bold  and  haughty  brother,  Odo,*  Bishop  of  Bayeux ;  — 
"  a  wager.  My  steed  to  your  palfrey  that  the  duke's 
falcon  first  fixes  the  bittern." 

"  Holy  father,"  answered  Edward,  in  that  slight  change 
of  voice  which  alone  showed  his  displeasure,  "  these  wagers 
all  savor  of  heathenesse,  and  our  canons  forbid  them  to 
monef  and  priest.     Go  to,  it  is  naught." 

The  bishop,  who  brooked  no  rebuke,  even  from  his 
terrible  brother,  knit  his  brows,  and  was  about  to  make 
no  gentle  rejoinder,  when  William,  whose  profound  craft 
or  sagacity  was  always  at  watch,  lest  his  followers  should 
displease  the  king,  interposed,  and,  taking  the  word  out 
of  the  prelate's  mouth,  said  — 

"  Thou  reprovest  us  well,  sir  and  king ;  we  Normans 
are  too  inclined  to  such  levities.  And  see,  your  falcon  is 
first  in  pride  of  place.  By  the  bones  of  St.  Yalery,  how 
nobly  he  towers  !  See  him  cover  the  bittern  !  —  see  him 
rest  on  the  wing  !     Down  he  swoops  !     Gallant  bird  ! " 

"  With  his  heart  split  in  two  on  the  bittern's  bill,"  said 
the  bishop  ;  and  down,  rolling  one  over  the  other,  fell 
bittern  and  hawk,  while  William's  Norway  falcon,  smaller 

*  Herleve  (Arlotta),  William's  mother,  married  Herluin  de  Con- 
teville,  after  the  death  of  Duke  Robert,  and  had  by  him  two  sons, 
Robert  Count  of  Mortain,  and  Odo,  Bishop  of  Bayeux. — Ord. 
Vital,  lib.  vii. 

f  Mone,  monk. 


HAROLD.  55 

of  size  than  the  king's,  descended  rapidly,  and  hovered 
over  the  two.     Both  were  dead. 

"I  accept  the  omen,"  muttered  the  gazing  duke  ;  "let 
the  natives  destroy  each  other  ! "  He  placed  his  whistle 
to  his  lips,  and  his  falcon  flew  back  to  his  wrist.  • 

"Now  home,"  said  King  Edward. 


CHAPTER   IT. 

The  royal  party  entered  London  by  the  great  bridge 
which  divided  South wark  from  the  capital ;  and  we  must 
pause  to  gaze  a  moment  on  the  animated  scene  which  the 
immemorial  thoroughfare  presented. 

The  whole  suburb  before  entering  Southwark  was  rich 
in  orchards  and  gardens,  lying  round  the  detached  houses 
of  the  wealthier  merchants  and  citizens.  Approaching 
the  river-side  to  the  left,  the  eye  might  see  the  two  cir- 
cular spaces  set  apart,  the  one  for  bear,  the  other  for 
bull-baiting.  To  the  right,  upon  a  green  mound  of  waste, 
within  sight  of  the  populous  bridge,  the  glee-men  were 
exercising  their  art.  Here  one  dexterous  juggler  threw 
three  balls  and  three  knives  alternately  in  the  air,  catch- 
ing them  one  by  one  as  they  fell.*  There,  another  Vas 
gravely  leading  a  great  bear  to  dance  on  its  hind  legs, 
while  his  coadjutor  kept  time  with  a  sort  of  flute  or 
flageolet.     The    lazy   by-standers,    in    great    concourse, 


*  Strutt's  Horda. 


56  HAROLD. 

stared  and  laughed  ;  but  the  laugh  was  hushed  at  the 
tramp  of  the  Norman  steeds  ;  and  the  famous  count  by 
the  king's  side,  as,  with  a  smiling  lip,  but  observant  eye, 
he  rode  along,  drew  all  attention  from  the  bear. 
5  Qn  now  approaching  that  bridge,  which,  nol  many 
years  before,  had  been  the  scene  of  terrible  contest  be- 
tween  the  invading  Danes  and  Ethelred's  ally,  Olave  of 
Norway,*  you  might  still  see,  though  neglected  and 
already  in  decay,  the  double  fortifications  that  had  wisely 
guarded  that  vista  into  the  city.  On  both  sides  of  the 
bridge,  which  was  of  wood,  were  forts,  partly  of  timber, 
partly  of  stone,  and  breast-works,  and  by  the  forts  a 
little  chapel.  The  bridge,  broad  enough  to  admit  twc 
vehicles  abreast,*)*  was  crowded  with  passengers,  and  lively 
with  stalls  and  booths.  Here  was  the  favorite  spot  of 
the  popular  ballad-singer.J  Here  too,  might  be  seer: 
the  swarthy  Saracen,  with  wares  from  Spain  and  Afric.§ 

*  There  is  an  animated  description  of  this  "  Battle  of  London 
Bridge,"  which  gave  ample  theme  to  the  Scandinavian  scalds,  in 
Snorro  Sturleson :  — 

"  London  Bridge  is  broken  down ; 
Gold  is  won  and  bright  renown; 
Shields  resounding, 
War  horns  sounding, 
Hildur  shouting  in  the  din, 
Arrows  singing, 
Mail-coats  ringing, 
Odin  makes  our  Olaf  win.** 

Laing's  Heimskringla,  vol.  ii.  p.  10. 
f  Sharon  Turner.     .  J  Hawkins,  vol.  ii.  p.  94. 

^         \  Doomsday  makes  mention  of  the  Moors,  and  the  Germans  (the 
Emperor's  merchants)  that  were  sojourners  or  setters,  in  London. 


HAROLD.  57 

Here,  the  German  merchant  from  the  Steel-yard  swept 
along  on  his  way  to  his  suburban  home.  Here,  on  some 
holy  office,  went  quick  the  muffled  monk.  Here  tlie  city 
gallant  paused  to  laugh  with  the  country  girl,  her  basket 
full  of  May-boughs  and  cowslips.  In  short,  all  bespoke 
that  activity,  whether  in  business  or  pastime,  which  was 
destined  to  render  that  city  the  mart  of  the  world,  and 
which  had  already  knit  the  trade  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  to 
the  remoter  corners  of  commercial  Europe.  The  deep 
dark  eye  of  William  dwelt  admiringly  on  the  bustling 
groups,  on  the  broad  river,  and  the  forest  of  masts  which 
rose  by  the  indented  marge  near  Belin's  Gate.*  And  he 
to  whom,  whatever  his  faults,  or  rather  crimes,  to  the  un- 
fortunate people  he  not  only  oppressed  but  deceived  — 
London  at  least  may  yet  be  grateful,  not  only  for  chartered 
franchise,f  but  for  advancing,  in  one  short  vigorous  reign, 

The  Saracens  at  that  time  were  among  the  great  merchants  of  the 
world;  Marseilles,  Aries,  Avignon,  Montpellier,  Toulouse,  were 
the  wonted  etapes  of  their  active  traders.  What  civilizers,  what 
teachers  they  were — those  same  Saracens!  How  much  in  arms 
and  in  arts  we  owe  them !  Fathers  of  the  Provencal  poetry,  they, 
far  more  than  even  the  Scandinavian  scalds,  have  influenced  the 
literature  of  Christian  Europe.  The  most  ancient  chronicle  of  the 
Cid  was  written  in  Arabic,  a  little  before  the  Cid's  death  by  two 
cf  his  pages,  who  were  Mussulmans.  The  medical  science  of  the 
Moors  for  six  centuries  enlightened  Europe,  and  their  metaphysics 
were  adopted  in  nearly  all  the  Christian  universities. 

*  Billingsgate. 

f  London  received  a  charter  from  William  at  the  instigation  of 
the  Norman  Bishop  of  London;  but  it  probably  only  confirmed  the 
previous  municipal  constitution,  since  it  says  briefly,  "I  grant  yoj 
all  to  be  as  law-worthy  as  ye  were  in  the  days  of  King  Edward." 
The  rapid  increase,  however,  of  the  commercial  prosperity  and 
5* 


68  HAROLD. 

her  commerce  and  wealth,  beyond  what  centuries  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  domination,  with  its  inherent  feebleness,  had 
effected,  exclaimed  aloud  :  — 

"By  rood  and  mass,  0  dear  king,  thy  lot  hath  fallen 
on  a  goodly  heritage  ! " 

'"Hem!"  said  Edward,  lazily;  "thou  knowest  not 
how  troublesome  these  Saxons  are.  And  while  thou 
speakest,  lo  1  in  yon  shattered  walls,  built  first,  they  say, 
by  Alfred,  of  holy  memory,  are  the  evidences  of  the 
Danes.  Bethink  thee  how  often  they  have  sailed  up  this 
river.  How  know  I  but  what  the  next  year  the  raven 
flag  may  stream  over  these  waters?  Magnus  of  Den- 
mark hath  already  claimed  my  crown  as  heir  to  the 
royalties  of  Canute,  and  "  (here  Edward  hesitated)  "  God- 
win and  Harold,  whom  alone  of  my  thegns,  Dane  and 
Northman  fear,  are  far  away." 

"  Miss  not  them,  Edward,  my  cousin,"  cried  the  duke, 
in  haste.  "  Send  for  me,  if  danger  threat  thee.  Ships 
enow  await  thy  best  in  my  new  port  of  Cherbourg.  And 
I  tell  thee  this  for  thy  comfort,  that  were  I  king  of  the 
English,  and  lord  of  this  river,  the  citizens  of  London 
might  sleep  from  vespers  to  prime,  without  fear  of  the 
Dane.  Never  again  should  the  raven  flag  be  seen  by 
this  bridge  !  Never,  I  swear,  by  the  Splendor  Divine  ! " 

Not  without  purpose  spoke  William  thus  stoutly ;  and 
he  turned  on  the  king   those  glittering  eyes  (micantes 

political  importance  of  London  after  the  Conquest,  is  attested  in 
many  chronicles,  and  becomes  strikingly  evident  even  on  the  sur- 
face of  history. 


HAROLD.  59 

oculos),  which  the  chroniclers  nave  praised  and  noted. 
For  it  was  his  hope  and  his  aim  in  this  visit,  that  his 
cousin  Edward  should  formally  promise  him  that  goodly 
heritage  of  England.  But  the  king  made  no  rejoinder, 
and  they  now  neared  the  end  of  the  bridge. 

"What  old  ruin  looms  yonder?"*  asked  William, 
hiding  his  disappointment  at  Edward's  silence  ;  "it  seem- 
eth  the  remains  of  some  stately  keape,  which,  by  its 
fashion,  I  should  pronounce  Roman." 

"  Ay  ! w  said  Edward,  "It  is  said  to  have  been  built  by 
the  Romans  ;  and  one  of  the  old  Lombard  freemasons 
employed  on  my  new  palace  of  Westminster,  giveth  that, 
and  some  others  in  my  domain,  the  name  of  the  Juillet 
Tower." 

"  Those  Romans  were  our  masters  in  all  things  gallant 
and  wise,"  said  William  ;  "  and  I  predict  that,  some  day 
or  other,  on  this  site,  a  king  of  England  will  re-erect 
palace  and  tower.     And  yon  castle  towards  the  west  ?  " 

"Is  the  Tower  Palatine,  where  our  predecessors  have 
lodged,  and  ourself  sometimes  ;  but  the  sweet  loneliness 
of  Thorney  Isle,  pleaseth  me  more  now." 

*  There  seemed  good  reason  for  believing  that  a  keep  did  stand 
where  the  Tower  stands,  before  the  Conquest,  and  that  William's 
edifice  spared  some  of  its  remains.  In  the  very  interesting  letter 
from  John  Bayford  relating  to  the  city  of  London,  (Lei.  Collect. 
lviii.),  the  writer,  a  thorough  master  of  his  subject,  states,  that 
"  the  Romans  made  a  public  military  way,  that  of  Watling  Street, 
from  the  Tower  to  Ludgate,  in  a  straight  line,  at  the  end  of  which 
they  built  stations  or  citadels,  one  of  which  was  where  the  White 
Tower  now  stands."  Bayford  adds  that  "when  the  White  Tower 
was  fitted  up  for  the  reception  of  records,  there  remained  many 
Saxon  inscriptions." 


60  HAROLD 

Thus  talking,  they  entered  London,  a  rude,  dark  city 
built  mainly  of  timbered  houses ;  streets  narrow  anf 
winding  ;  windows  rarely  glazed,  but  protected  chiefly  bj 
linen  blinds  ;  vistas  opening,  however,  at  times  into  broad 
spaces,  round  the  various  convents,  where  green  trees 
grew  up  behind  low  palisades.  Tall  roods,  and  holy 
images,  to  which  we  owe  the  names  of  existing  thorough- 
fares  (Rood-lane  and  Lady-lane  *),  where  the  waya 
crossed,  attracted  the  curious,  and  detained  the  pious. 
Spires  there  were  not  then,  but  blunt  cone-headed  turrets, 
pyramidal,  denoting  the  Houses  of  God,  rose  often  from 
the  low,  thatched,  and  reeded  roofs.  But  every  now  and 
then,  a  scholar's,  if  not  an  ordinary  eye,  could  behold  the 
relics  of  Roman  splendor,  traces  of  that  elder  city  which 
now  lies  buried  under  our  thoroughfares,  and  of  which, 
year  by  year,  are  dug  up  the  stately  skeletons. 

Along  the  Thames  still  rose,  though  much  mutilated, 
the  wall  of  Constantine.f  Round  the  humble  and  bar- 
barous church  of  St.  Paul's  (wherein  lay  the  dust  of 
Sebba,  that  king  of  the  East  Saxons  who  quitted  hia 
throne  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  and  of  Edward's  feeble  and 
luckless  father,  Ethelred),  might  be  seen,  still  gigantic  in 
decay,  the  ruins  of  the  vast  temple  of  Diana.  J  Many  a 
church,  and  many  a  convent,  pierced  their  mingled  brick 
and  timber  work  with  Boman  capital  and  shaft.  Still, 
by  the  tower,  to  which  was  afterwards  given  the  Saracen 
name  of  Barbican,  were  the  wrecks  of  the  Roman  station, 

*  Rude-lane.     Lad-lane.  —  Bayford.  f  Fitzstephen 

J  Camden. 


HAROLD.  61 

where  cohorts  watched  night  and  day,  in  case  of  fire 
within  or  foe  without* 

In  a  niche,  near  the  Aldersgate,  stood  the  headless 
statue  of  Fortitude,  which  monks  and  pilgrims  deemed 
some  unknown  saint  in  the  old  time,  and  halted  to  honor. 
And  in  the  midst  of  Bishopsgate  Street,  sat  on  his  dese- 
crated throne  a  mangled  Jupiter,  his  eagle  at  his  feet. 
Many  a  half-converted  Dane  there  lingered,  and  mistook 
the  Thunderer  and  the  bird  for  Odin  and  his  hawk  By 
Leod-gate  (the  People's  gate  f )  still  too  were  seen  the 
arches  of  one  of  those  mighty  aqueducts  which  the  Roman 
learned  from  the  Etrurian.  And  close  by  the  still-yard, 
occupied  by  "the  Emperor's  cheap  men'7  (the  German 
merchants),  stood,  almost  entire,  the  Roman  temple,  ex- 
tant in  the  time  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth.  Without  the 
walls,  the  old  Roman  vineyards  still  put  forth  their  green 
leaves  and  crude  clusters,  in  the  plains  of  East  Smith- 
field,  in  the  fields  of  St.  Giles's,  and  on  the  site  where 
now  stands  Hatton  Garden.  Still  massere  J  and  cheap- 
men  chaffered  and  bargained,  at  booth  and  stall,  in  Mart 
Lane,  where  the  Romans  had  bartered  before  them.  With 
every  encroachment  on  new  soil,  within  the  walls  and 
without,  urn,  vase,  weapon,  human  bones,  were  shovelled 
out,  and  lay  disregarded  amidst  heaps  of  rubbish. 

Not  on  such  evidences  of  the  past  civilization  looked 
the  practical  eye  of  the  Norman  Count;  not  on  things, 

*  Bayford,  Leland's  Collectanea,  p.  lviii. 
f  Ludgate  (Leod-gate).  —  Verstegan. 
%  Massere,  merchant,  mercer. 

I.— 6 


62  HAROLD. 

but  on  men,  looked  he ;  and  as  silently  he  rode  on  from 
street  to  street,  out  of  those  men,  stalwart  and  tall,  busy, 
active,  toiling,  the  Man-Ruler  saw  the  Civilization  that 
was  to  come. 

So,  gravely  through  the  small  city,  and  over  the  bridge 
that  spanned  the  little  river  of  the  Fleet,  rode  the  train 
along  the  Strand ;  to  the  left,  smooth  sands ;  to  the 
right,  fair  pastures  below  green  holts,  thinly  studded  with 
houses ;  over  numerous  cuts  and  inlets  running  into  the 
river,  rode  they  on.  The  hour  and  the  season  were 
those  in  which  youth  enjoyed  its  holiday,  and  gay  groups 
resorted  to  the  then  *  fashionable  haunts  of  the  Foun- 
tain of  Holywell,  "  streaming  forth  among  glistening 
pebbles. " 

So  they  gained  at  length  the  village  of  Charing,  which 
Edward  had  lately  bestowed  on  his  Abbey  of  West- 
minster, and  which  was  now  filled  with  workmen,  native 
and  foreign,  employed  on  that  edifice  and  the  contiguous 
palace.  Here  they  loitered  awhile  at  the  Mews*)*  (where 
the  hawks  were  kept),  passed  by  the  rude  palace  of  stone 
and  rubble,  appropriated  to  the  tributary  kings  of  Scot- 
land J —  a  gift  from  Edgar  to  Kenneth  —  and  finally, 
reaching  the  inlet  of  the  river,  which,  winding  round  the 

*  Fitzstephen. 

f  Meuse.  Apparently  rather  a  hawk  hospital,  from  Alula  (Cam- 
den). Du  Fresne,  in  his  Glossary,  says,  Muta  is  in  French  Lt 
Meue,  and  a  disease  to  which  the  hawk  was  subject  on  changing  its 
feathers. 

i  Scotland-yard.  —  Strype. 


HAH, 


ul,D.  63 

Isle  of  Thorn ey  (now  Westminster),  separated  the  rising 
church,  abbey,  and  palace,  of  the  Saint-king  from  the 
main  land,  dismounted  —  and  were  ferried  across*  the 
narrow  stream  to  the  broad  space  round  the  royal  resi- 
dence. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

The  new  palace  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  the  palace 
of  Westminster,  opened  its  gates  to  receive  the  Saxon 
King  and  the  Norman  Duke,  remounting  on  the  margin 
of  the  isle,  and  now  riding  side  by  side.  And  as  the 
duke  glanced  from  brows,  habitually  knit,  first  over  the 
pile,  stately  though  not  yet  completed,  with  its  long  rows 
of  round  arched  windows,  cased  by  indented  fringes  and 
fraet  (or  tooth)  work,  its  sweep  of  solid  columns  with 
circling  cloisters,  and  its  ponderous  towers  of  simple 
grandeur ;  then  over  the  groups  of  courtiers,  with  close 
vests,  and  short  mantles  and  beardless  cheeks,  that  filled 
up  the  wide  space,  to  gaze  in  homage  on  the  renowned 
guest,  his  heart  swelled  within  him,  and  checking  his 
rein,  he  drew  near  to  his  brother  of  Bayeux,  and  whis- 
pered :  — 

"Is  not  this  already  the  court  of  the  Norman  ?  Be- 
hold yon  nobles  and  earls,  how  they  mimic  our  garb  ! 

*  The  first  bridge  that  connected  Thorney  Isle  with-  the  main- 
laud  is  said  to  have  been  built  by  Matilda,  wife  of  Henry  I. 


64  HAROLD. 

behold  the  very  stones  in  yon  gate,  how  they  range 
themselves,  as  if  carved  by  the  hand  of  the  Norman 
mason  !  Yerily  and  indeed,  brother,  the  shadow  of  the 
rising  sun  rests  already  on  these  halls." 

"  Had  England  no  People,"  said  the  bishop,  "  England 
were  yours  already.  But  saw  you  not,  as  we  rode  along, 
the  lowering  brows  ?  and  heard  you  not  the  angry  mur- 
murs ?     The  villeins  are  many,  and  their  hate  is  strong." 

11  Strong  is  the  roan  I  bestride,"  said  the  duke  ;  "  but 
a  bold  rider  curbs  it  with  the  steel  of  the  bit,  and  guides 
it  with  the  goad  of  the  heel." 

And  now  as  they  neared  the  gate,  a  band  of  minstrels 
in  the  pay  of  the  Norman  touched  their  instruments,  and 
woke  their  song  —  the  household  song  of  the  Norman  — 
the  battle-hymn  of  Roland,  the  Paladin  of  Charles  the 
Great.  At  the  first  word  of  the  song,  the  Norman 
knights  and  youths,  profusely  scattered  amongst  the 
Normanized  Saxons,  caught  up  the  lay,  and  with  spark- 
ling eyes,  and  choral  voices,  they  welcomed  the  mighty 
duke  into  the  palace  of  the  last  meek  successor  of  Woden. 

By  the  porch  of  the  inner  court  the  duke  flung  himself 
from  his  saddle,  and  held  the  stirrup  for  Edward  to  dis- 
mount. The  king  placed  his  hand  gently  on  his  guest's 
broad  shoulder,  and,  having  somewhat  slowly  reached  the 
ground,  embraced  and  kissed  him  in  the  sight  of  the  gor- 
geous assemblage  ;  then  led  him  by  the  hand  towards  the 
fair  chamber  which  was  set  apart  for  the  duke,  and  so 
left  him  to  his  attendants. 

William,  lost  m  thought,  suffered  himself  to  be  disrobed 


HAROLD.  65 

in  silence ;  but  when  Fitzosborne,  his  favorite  confidant 
and  haughtiest  baron,  who  yet  deemed  himself  but 
honored  by  personal  attendance  '  n  his  chief,  conducted 
him  towards  the  bath,  which  adjoined  the  chamber,  he 
drew  back,  and  wrapping  round  him  more  closely  the 
gown  of  fur  that  had  been  thrown  over  his  shoulders,  he 
muttered  low,  —  "Nay,  if  there  be  on  me  yet  one  speck 
of  English  dust,  let  it  rest  there  !  —  seizin,  Fitzosborne, 
seizin,  of  the  English  land."  Then,  waving  his  hand,  he 
dismissed  all  his  attendants  except  Fitzosborne,  and 
Rolf,  Earl  of  Hereford,*  nephew  to  Edward,  but  French 
on  the  father's  side,  and  thoroughly  in  the  duke's  coun- 
cils. Twice  the  duke  paced  the  chamber  without  vouch- 
safing a  word  to  either,  then  paused  by  the  round  win- 
dow that  overlooked  the  Thames.  The  scene  was  fair  ; 
the  sun,  towards  its  decline,  glittered  on  numerous  small 
pleasure-boats,  which  shot  to  and  fro  between  Westmin- 
ster and  London,  or  towards  the  opposite  shores  of  Lam- 
beth. His  eye  sought  eagerly,  along  the  curves  of  the 
river,  the  grey  remains  of  the  fabled  Tower  of  Julius,  and 
the  walls,  gates,  and  turrets,  that  rose  by  the  stream,  or 
above  the  dense  mass  of  silent  roofs  ;  then  it  strained 
hard  to  descry  the  tops  of  the  more  distant  masts  of  that 
infant  navy,  fostered  under  Alfred,  the  far-seeing,  for  the 
future  civilization  of  wastes  unknown,  and  the  empire  of 
seas  untracked. 

*  We  give  him  that    title,  which  this  Norman  noble  generally 
oears   in   the    Chronicles,   though    Palgrave   observes    that   he  is 
rather  to  be  styled  Earl  of  the  Magestan  (the  Welch  Marches). 
6*  E 


66  HAROLD. 

The  duke  breathed  hard,  and  opened  and  closed  the 
hand  which  he  stretched  forth  into  space,  as  if  to  grasp 
the  city  he  beheld.  ''Rolf,"  said  he,  abruptly,  "thou 
knowest,  no  doubt,  the  wealth  of  the  London  traders, 
one  and  all ;  for,  foi  de  Guillaume,  my  gentil  chevalier, 
thou  art  a  true  Norman,  and  scentest  the  smell  of  gold 
as  a  hound  the  boar  1 " 

Rolf  smiled,  as  if  pleased  with  a  compliment  which 
simpler  men  might  have  deemed,  at  the  best,  equivocal, 
and  replied, — 

"  It  is  true,  my  liege  ;  and  gramercy,  the  air  of  Eng- 
land sharpens  the  scent ;  for  in  this  villein  and  motley 
country,  made  up  of  all  races,  —  Saxon  and  Fin,  Dane 
and  Fleming,  Pict  and  Walloon,  —  it  is  not  as  with  us, 
where  the  brave  man  and  the  pure  descent  are  held  chief 
in  honor :  here,  gold  and  land  are,  in  truth,  name  and 
lordship  ;  even  their  popular  name  for  their  national  as- 
sembly of  the  Witan  is,  'The  Wealthy.'*  He  who  is 
but  a  ceorl  to-day,  let  him  be  rich,  and  he  may  be  earl 
to-morrow,  marry  in  king's  blood,  and  rule  armies  under 
a  gonfanon  statelier  than  a  king's  ;  while  he  whose  fathers 
were  ealdormen  and  princes,  if,  by  force  or  by  fraud,  by 
waste  or  by  largess,  he  become  poor,  falls  at  once  into 
contempt,  and  out  of  his  state,  —  sinks  into  a  class  they 
call  'six-hundred  men/ in  their  barbarous  tongue,  and 
his  children  will  probably  sink  still  lower,  into  ceorls. 
Wherefore  gold  is  the  thing  here  most  coveted  ;  and,  by 
St.  Michael,  the  sin  is  infectious." 

*  Eadigan.  —  S.  Turner,  vol.  i.  p.  274. 


HAROLD.  67 

William  listened  to  the  speech  with  close  attention. 

"  Good,"  said  he,  rubbing  slowly  the  palm  of  his  right 
hand  over  the  back  of  the  left ;  "  a  land  all  compact  with 
the  power  of  one  race,  a  race  of  conquering  men,  as  our 
fathers  were,  whom  nought  but  cowardice  or  treason  can 
degrade, — such  a  land,  O  Rolf  of  Hereford,  it  were  hard 
indeed  to  subjugate,  or  decoy,  or  tame  ;  — " 

"  So  has  my  lord  the  duke  found  the  Bretons ;  and  so 
also  do  I  find  the  Welch  upon  my  marches  of  Hereford." 

"  But,"  continued  William,  not  heeding  the  interrup- 
tion, "  where  wealth  is  more  than  blood  and  race,  chiefs 
may  be  bribed  or  menaced;  and  the  multitude  —  by'r 
Lady,  the  multitude  are  the  same  in  all  lands,  mighty 
under  valiant  and  faithful  leaders,  powerless  as  sheep 
without  them.  But  to  my  question,  my  gentle  Rolf;  this 
London  must  be  rich?"* 

'Rich  enow,"  answered  Rolf,  "to  coin  into  armed 
men,  that  should  stretch  from  Rouen  to  Flanders  on  the 
one  hand,  and  Paris  on  the  other." 

"  In  the  veins  of  Matilda,  whom  thou  wooest  for  wife," 
said  Fitzosborne,  abruptly,  "  flows  the  blood  of  Charle- 
magne. God  grant  his  empire  to  the  children  she  shall 
bear  thee  !" 

The  duke  bowed  his  head,  and  kissed  a  relic  suspended 

*  The  comparative  wealth  of  London  was  indeed  considerable. 
When,  in  1018,  all  the  rest  of  England  was  taxed  to  an  amount 
considered  stupendous,  viz.,  71,000  Saxon  pounds,  London  con- 
tributed 11,000  pounds  besides. 


68  HAROLD. 

from  his  throat.  Farther  sign  of  approval  of  his  coun« 
sellor's  words  he  gave  not,  but,  after  a  pause,  he  said, — 

"When  I  depart,  Rolf,  thou  wendest  back  to  thy 
marches.  These  Welch  are  brave  and  fierce,  and  shape 
work  enow  for  thy  hands." 

"Ay,  by  my  halidame  !  poor  sleep  by  the  side  of  the 
bee-hive  you  have  stricken  down." 

"Marry,  then,"  said  William,  "let  the  Welch  prey  on 
Saxon,  Saxon  on  Welch ;  let  neither  win  too  easily. 
Remember  our  omens  to-day,  Welch  hawk  and  Saxon 
bittern,  and  over  their  corpses,  Duke  William's  Norway 
falcon  !  Now  dress  we  for  the  complin  *  and  the  ban- 
quet." 

*  Complin,  the  second  vespers. 


BOOK   SECOND. 

LANFRANC   THE   SCHOLAR. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Four  meals  a  day,  nor  those  sparing,  were  not  deemed 
too  extravagant  an  interpretation  of  the  daily  bread  for 
which  the  Saxons  prayed.  Four  meals  a  day,  from  earl 
to  ceorl !  "  Happy  times  !  "  may  sigh  the  descendant  of 
the  last,  if  he  read  these  pages  ;  partly  so  they  were  for 
the  ceorl,  but  not  in  all  things,  for  never  sweet  is  the 
food,  and  never  gladdening  is  the  drink,  of  servitude. 
Inebriety,  the  vice  of  the  warlike  nations  of  the  North, 
had  not,  perhaps,  been  the  pre-eminent  excess  of  the 
earlier  Saxons,  while  yet  the  active  and  fiery  Britons,  and 
the  subsequent  petty  wars  between  the  kings  of  the  Hep- 
tarchy, enforced  on  hardy  warriors  the  safety  of  temper- 
ance ;  but  the  example  of  the  Danes  had  been  fatal. 
Those  giants  of  the  sea,  like  all  who  pass  from  great 
vicissitudes  of  toil  and  repose,  from  the  tempest  to  the 
haven,  snatch  with  full  hands  every  pleasure  in  their 
reach.  With  much  that  tended  permanently  to  elevate 
the  character  of  the  Saxon,  they  imparted  much  for  a 

(69) 


70  HAROLD. 

time  to  degrade  it.  The  Anglian  learned  to  feast  to  re- 
pletion, and  drink  to  delirium.  But  such  were  not  the 
vices  of  the  court  of  the  Confessor.  Brought  up  from 
his  youth  in  the  cloister-camp  of  the  Normans,  what  he 
loved  in  their  manners  was  the  abstemious  sobriety,  and 
the  ceremonial  religion,  which  distinguished  those  sons 
of  the  Scandinavian  from  all  other  kindred  tribes. 

The  Norman  position  in  France,  indeed,  in  much  re- 
sembled that  of  the  Spartan  in  Greece.  He  had  forced 
a  settlement  with  scanty  numbers  in  the  midst  of  a  subju- 
gated and  sullen  population,  surrounded  by  jealous  and 
formidable  foes.  Hence  sobriety  was  a  condition  of  his 
being,  and  the  policy  of  the  chief  lent  a  willing  ear  to 
the  lessons  of  the  preacher.  Like  the  Spartan,  every 
Norman  of  pure  race  was  free  and  noble  ;  and  this  con- 
sciousness inspired  not  only  that  remarkable  dignity  of 
mien  which  Spartan  and  Norman  alike  possessed,  but 
also  that  fastidious  self-respect  which  would  have  revolted 
from  exhibiting  a  spectacle  "of  debasement  to  inferiors. 
And,  lastly,  as  the  paucity  of  their  original  numbers,  the 
perils  that  beset,  and  the  good  fortune  that  attended 
them,  served  to  render  the  Spartans  the  most  religious 
of  all  the  Greeks  in  their  dependence  on  the  Divine  aid  ; 
so,  perhaps,  to  the  same  causes  may  be  traced  the  pro- 
verbial piety  of  the  ceremonial  Normans  ;  they  carried 
into  their  new  creed  something  of  feudal  loyalty  to  their 
spiritual  protectors  ;  did  homage  to  the  Virgin  for  the 
lands  that  she  vouchsafed  to  bestow,  and  recognized  in 
St  Michael,  the  chief  who  conducted  their  armies. 


HAROLD.  71 

After  hearing  the  complin  vespers  in  the  temporary 
chapel  fitted  up  in  that  unfinished  abbey  of  Westminster, 
which  occupied  the  site  of  the  temple  of  Apollo,*  the 
king  and  his  guests  repaired  to  their  evening  meal  in  the 
great  hall  of  the  palace.  Below  the  dais  were  ranged 
three  long  tables  for  the  knights  in  William's  train,  and 
that  flower  of  the  Saxon  nobility  who,  fond,  like  all  youth, 
of  change  and  imitation,  thronged  the  court  of  their 
Normanized  saint,  and  scorned  the  rude  patriotism  of 
their  fathers.  But  hearts  truly  English  were  not  there. 
Yea,  many  of  Godwin's  noblest  foes  sighed  for  the  Eng- 
lish-hearted earl,  banished  by  Norman  guile  on  behalf  of 
English  law. 

At  the  oval  table  on  the  dais  the  guests  were  select 
and  chosen.  At  the  right  hand  of  the  king  sat  William  ; 
at  the  left  Odo  of  Bayeux.  Over  these  three  stretched  a 
canopy  of  cloth  of  gold  ;  the  chairs  on  which  each  sat 
were  of  metal,  richly  gilded  over,  and  the  arms  carved  in 
elaborate  arabesques.  At  this  table  too  was  the  king's 
nephew,  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  and,  in  right  of  kinsman- 
ship  to  the  duke,  the  Norman's  beloved  baron  and  grand 
seneschal,  William  Fitzosborne,  who,  though  in  Nor- 
mandy even  he  sat  not  at  the  duke's  table,  was,  as  related 
to  his  lord,  invited  by  Edward  to  his  own.     No  other 

*  Camden.  —  A  church  was  built  out  of  the  ruins  of  that  temple 
by  Sibert,  King  of  the  East  Saxons;  and  Canute  favored  much  the 
small  monastery  attached  to  it  (originally  established  by  Dunstan 
for  twelve  Benedictines),  on  account  of  its  Abbot  Wulnoth,  whose 
society  pleased  him.  The  old  palace  of  Canute,  in  Thorney  Isle, 
had  been  destroyed  by  fire. 


72  HAEOLD. 

guests  were  admitted  to  this  board,  so  shat,  save  Edward, 
all  were  Norman.  The  dishes  were  of  gold  and  silver, 
the  cups  inlaid  with  jewels.  Before  each  guest  was  a 
knife,  with  hilt  adorned  by  precious  stones,  and  a  napkin 
fringed  with  silver.  The  meats  were  not  placed  on  the 
table,  but  served  upon  small  spits,  and  between  every 
course  a  basin  of  perfumed  water  was  borne  round  by 
high-born  pages.  No  dame  graced  the  festival ;  for  she 
who  should  have  presided  —  she,  matchless  for  beauty 
without  pride,  piety  without  asceticism,  and  learning  with- 
out pedantry — she,  the  pale  rose  of  England,  loved  daugh- 
ter of  Godwin,  and  loathed  wife  of  Edward,  had  shared 
in  the  fall  of  her  kindred,  and  had  been  sent  by  the  meek 
King,  or  his  fierce  counsellors,  to  an  abbey  in  Hampshire, 
with  the  taunt  "that  it  was  not  meet  that  the  child  and 
sister  should  enjoy  state  and  pomp,  while  the  sire  and 
brethren  ate  the  bread  of  the  stranger  in  banishment  and 
disgrace." 

But,  hungry  as  were  the  guests,  it  was  not  the  custom 
of  that  holy  court  to  fall  to  without  due  religious  cere- 
monial. The  rage  for  psalm-singing  was  then  at  its 
height  in  England  ;  psalmody  had  excluded  almost  every 
other  description  of  vocal  music  ;  and  it  is  even  said  that 
great  festivals  on  certain  occasions  were  preluded  by  no 
less  an  effort  of  lungs  and  memory  than  the  entire  songs 
bequeathed  to  us  by  King  David  !  This  day,  however, 
Ilugoline,  Edward's  Nerman  chamberlain,  had  been 
pleased  to  abridge  the  length  of  the  prolix  grace,  and 
the  company  were  let  off,  to  Edward's  surprise  and  dis- 


HAROLD.  13 

pleasure,  with  the  curt  and  unseemly  preparation  of  only 
nine  psalms  and  one  special  hymn  in  honor  of  some  ob- 
scure saint  to  whom  the  day  was  dedicated.  This  per- 
formed, the  guests  resumed  their  seats,  Edward  murmur- 
ing an  apology  to  William  for  the  strange  omission  of 
bis  chamberlain,  and  saying  thrice  to  himself,  "  Naught, 
naught  —  very  naught." 

The  mirth  languished  at  the  royal  table,  despite  some 
gay  efforts  from  Rolf,  and  some  hollow  attempts  at  light- 
hearted  cheerfulness  from  the  great  duke,  whose  eyes, 
wandering  down  the  table,  were  endeavoring  to  distin- 
guish Saxon  from  Norman,  and  count  how  many  of  the 
first  might  already  be  reckoned  in  the  train  of  his  friends. 
But  at  the  long  tables  below,  as  the  feast  thickened,  and 
ale,  mead,  pigment,  morat,  and  wine  circled  round,  the 
tongue  of  the  Saxon  was  loosed,  and  the  Norman  knight 
lost  somewhat  of  his  superb  gravity.  It  was  just  as  what 
a  Danish  poet  called  the  ''sun  of  the  night,"  (in  other 
words,  the  fierce  warmth  of  the  wine),  had  attained  its 
meridian  glow,  that  some  slight  disturbance  at  the  doors 
of  the  hall,  without  which  waited  a  dense  crowd  of  the 
poor  on  whom  the  fragments  of  the  feast  were  afterwards 
to  be  bestowed,  was  followed  by  the  entrance  of  two 
strangers,  for  whom  the  officers  appointed  to  marshal  the 
entertainment  made  room  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  tables. 
Both  these  new  comers  were  clad  with  extreme  plain- 
ness; one  in  a  dress,  though  not  quite  monastic,  that  ot 
an  ecclesiastic  of  low  degree  ;  the  other  in  a  long  grey 
mantle    and   loose    gonna,  the  train  of  which  last  was 

L  — 7 


74  HAROLD. 

tucked  into  a  broad  leathern  belt,  leaving  bare  the 
leggings,  which  showed  limbs  of  great  bulk  and  sinew, 
and  which  were  stained  by  the  dust  and  mire  of  travel. 
The  first  mentioned  was  slight  and  small  of  person  ;  the 
last  was  of  the  height  and  port  of  the  sons  of  Anak. 
The  countenance  of  neither  could  be  perceived,  for  both 
had  let  fall  the  hood,  worn  by  civilians  as  by  priests  out 
of  doors,  more  than  half-way  over  their  faces. 

A  murmur  of  great  surprise,  disdain,  and  resentment, 
at  the  intrusion  of  strangers  so  attired,  circulated  round 
the  neighborhood  in  which  they  had  been  placed,  checked 
for  a  moment  by  a  certain  air  of  respect  which  the  officer 
had  shown  towards  both,  but  especially  the  taller;  but 
breaking  out  with  greater  vivacity  from  the  faint  restraint, 
as  the  tall  man  unceremoniously  stretched  across  the 
board,  drew  towards  himself  an  immense  flagon,  which 
(agreeably  to  the  custom  of  arranging  the  feast  in 
"  messes w  of  four),  had  been  specially  appropriated  to 
Ulf  the  Dane,  Godrich  the  Saxon,  and  two  young  Nor- 
man knights  akin  to  the  puissant  Lord  of  Grantmesnjl, — 
and  having  offered  it  to  his  comrade,  who  shook  his 
bead,  drained  it  with  a  gusto  that  seemed  to  bespeak  him 
at  least  no  Norman,  and  wiped  his  lips  boorishly  with 
the  sleeve  of  his  huge  arm. 

"  Dainty,  sir,"  said    one    of  those    Norman    knights, 
William  Mallet,  of  the  house  of  Mallet  de  Graville,*  as 

*  See  Note  to  Pluquet's  "Roman  de  Rou,"  p.  285. 
N.  B.  —  Whenever  the  4l  Roman  de  Rou  "    is    quoted   in    these 
pages,  it  is  from  the  excellent  edition  of  M.  Pluquet. 


HAROL'D.  75 

lie  moved  as  far  from  the  gigantic  intruder  as  the  space 
on  the  settle  would  permit,  "forgive  the  observation  that 
you  have  damaged  my  mantle,  you  have  grazed  my  foot, 
and  you  have  drunk  my  wine.  And  vouchsafe,  if  it  so 
please  you,  the  face  of  the  man  who  hath  done  this  triple 
wrong  to  William  Mallet  de  Graville." 

A  kind  of  laugh  —  for  laugh  absolute  it  was  not  — 
rattled  under  the  cowl  of  the  tall  stranger,  as  he  drew  it 
still  closer  over  his  face,  with  a  hand  that  might  have 
spanned  the  breast  of  his  interrogator,  and  he  made  a 
gesture  as  if  he  did  not  understand  the  question  addressed 
to  him. 

Therewith  the  Norman  knight,  bending  with  demure 
courtsey  across  the  board  to  Godrith  the  Saxon,  said,  — 

"Pardex*  but  this  fair  guest  and  seigneur  seemeth  to 
me,  noble  Godree  (whose  name  I  fear  my  lips  do  but 
rudely  enounce),  of  Saxon  line  and  language  ;  our  Ro- 
mance tongue  he  knoweth  not.  Pray  you,  is  it  the  Saxon 
custom  to  enter  a  king's  hall  so  garbed,  and  drink  a 
knight's  wine  so  mutely?" 

Godrith,  a  young  Saxon  of  considerable  rank,  but  one 
of  the  most  sedulous  of  the  imitators  of  the  foreign 
fashions,  colored  high  at  the  irony  in  the  knight's  speech, 
and  turning  rudely  to  the  huge  guest,  who  was  now 
causing  immense  fragments  of  pastry  to  vanish  under  the 
cavernous  cowl,  he  said  in  his  native  tongue,  though  with 
a  lisp  as  if  unfamiliar  to  him,  — 

*  Pardex,  or  Parde,  corresponding  to  the  modern  French  exple- 
tive, pardie. 


76  HA'ROLD. 

"  If  thou  beest  Saxon,  shame  us  not  with  thy  eeorlish 
manners ;  crave  pardon  of  this  Norman  thegn,  who  will 
doubtless  yield  it  to  thee  in  pity.  Uncover  thy  face  — 
and  —  " 

Here  the  Saxon's  rebuke  was  interrupted ;  for,  one  of 
the  servitors,  just  then  approaching  Godrith's  side  with  a 
spit,  elegantly  caparisoned  with  some  score  of  plump 
larks,  the  unmannerly  giant  stretched  out  his  arm  within 
an  inch  of  the  Saxon's  startled  nose,  and  possessed  him- 
self of  larks,  broche,  and  all.  He  drew  off  two,  which  he 
placed  on  his  friend's  platter,  despite  all  dissuasive 
gesticulations,  and  deposited  the  rest  upon  his  own.  The 
young  banqueters  gazed  upon  the  spectacle  in  wrath  too 
full  for  words. 

At  last  spoke  Mallet  de  Graville,  with  an  envious  eye 
upon  the  larks  —  for  though  a  Norman  was  not  glutton- 
ous, he  was  epicurean  —  "  Certes,  and  foi  de  chevalier! 
a  man  must  go  into  strange  parts  if  he  wish  to  see 
monsters  ;  but  we  are  fortunate  people,"  (and  he  turned 
to  his  Norman  friend  Aymer,  Quen  *  or  Count,  D'Eve- 
reux,)  "that  we  have  discovered  Polyphemus  without 
going  so  far  as  Ulysses ;  "  and  pointing  to  the  hooded 
giant,  he  quoted,  .appropriately  enough, 
M  Monstrum,  horrendum,  informe,  ingens,  cui  lumen  ademptum." 

The  giant  continued  to  devour  his  larks,  as  compla- 
cently as  the  ogre  to  whom  he  was  likened  might  have 

*  Quen,  or  rather  Quens  ;  synonymous  with  Count  in  the  Norman 
Chronicles.  Earl  Godwin  is  strangely  styled  by  Wace,  Quern 
Qwine. 


HAROLD.  77 

devoured  the  Greeks  in  his  cave.  But  his  fellow  intruder 
seemed  agitated  by  the  sound  of  the  Latin  ;  he  lifted  up 
his  head  suddenly,  and  showed  lips  glistening  with  white 
even  teeth,  and  curved  into  an  approving  smile,  while  he 
said  :  "Bene,  mi  fill!  bene,  lepidissime,  poetce  verba,  in 
militis  ore,  mon  indecora  sonant."* 

The  young  Norman  stared  at  the  speaker,  and  replied, 
in  the  same  tone  of  grave  affectation, — "  Courteous  Sir  ! 
the  approbation  of  an  ecclesiastic  so  eminent  as  I  take 
you  to  be,  from  the  modesty  with  which  you  conceal  your 
greatness,  cannot  fail  to  draw  upon  me  the  envy  of  my 
English  friends  ;  who  are  accustomed  to  swear  in  verba 
magistri,  only  for  verba  they  learnedly  substitute  vina." 

"You  are  pleasant,  Sire  Mallet,"  said  Godrith,  red- 
dening ;  "  but  I  know  well  that  Latin  is  only  fit  foi 
monks  and  shavelings;  and  little  enow  even  they  have 
to  boast  of." 

The  Norman's  lip  curled  in  disdain.  "  Latin  !  —  0, 
Godree,  Men  aime  ! — Latin  is  the  tongue  of  Caesars  and 
senators,  fortes  conquerors  and  preux  chevaliers.  Know- 
cst  thou  not  that  Duke  William  the  dauntless  at  eight 
years  old  had  the  Comments  of  Julius  Caesar  jy  heart  ? 
—  and  that  it  is  his  saying,  that  'a  king  without  letters 
is  a  crowned  ass  ?  '  f  When  the  king  is  an  ass,  asinine 
are  his  subjects.    Wherefore  go  to  school,  speak  respect- 

*  ''Good,  good,  pleasant  son,  —  the  words  of  the  poet  sound 
gracefully  on  the  lips  of  the  knight." 

f  A  sentiment  variously  assigned  to  William  and  to  his  son 
Henry  the  Beau  Clerc. 


78  HAROLD. 

fully  of  thy  betters,  the  monks  and  shavelings,  who  with 
us  are  often  brave  captains  and  sage  councillors,  —  and 
learn  that  a  full  head  makes  a  weighty  hand." 

"  Thy  name,  young*  knight  ?"  said  the  ecclesiastic,  in 
Norman  French,  though  with  a  slight  foreign  accent. 

"I  can  give  it  thee,"  said  the  giant,  speaking  aloud 
for  the  first  time,  in  the  same  language,  and  in  a  rough 
voice,  which  a  quick  ear  might  have  detected  as  disguised, 
— "  I  can  describe  to  thee  name,  birth,  and  quality.  By 
name,  this  youth  is  Guillaume  Mallet,  sometimes  styled 
De  Grraville,  because  our  Norman  gentilhommes,  forsooth, 
must  always  now  have  a  'de'  tacked  to  their  names; 
nevertheless  he  hath  no  other  right  to  the  seigneurie  of 
Graville,  which  appertains  to  the  head  of  his  house,  than 
may  be  conferred  by  an  old  tower  on  one  corner  of  the 
demesnes  so  designated,  with  lands  that  would  feed  one 
horse  and  two  villeins  —  if  they  were  not  in  pawn  to  a 
Jew  for  moneys  to  buy  velvet  mantelines  and  a  chain  of 
gold.  By  birth,  he  comes  from  Mallet,*  a  bold  Nor- 
wegian in  the  fleet  of  Rou  the  Sea-king ;  his  mother  was 
a  Frank  woman,  from  whom  he  inherits  his  best  posses- 
sions— videlicet,  a  shrewd  wit  and  a  railing  tongue.  His 
qualities  are  abstinence,  for  he  eateth  nowhere  save  at 
the  cost  of  another — some  Latin,  for  he  was  meant  for  a 
monk,  because  he  seemed  too  slight  of  frame  for  a  war- 
rior—  some  courage,  for  in  spite  of  his  frame  he  slew 
three  Burgundians  with  his  own  hand*  and  Duk^  Wil- 


*  Mallet  is  a  genuine  Scandinavian  name  to  this  day 


HAROLD.  79 

liam,  among  other  foolish  acts,  spoilt  a  friar  saws  tache, 
by  making  a  knight  sans  terre  ;  and  for  the  rest " 

"And  for  the  rest,"  interrupted  the  Sire  de  Graville, 
turning  white  with  wrath,  but  speaking  in  a  low  repressed 
voice,  "  were  it  not  that  Duke  William  sat  yonder,  thou 
shouldst  have  six  inches  of  cold  steel  in  thy  huge  carcase 
to  digest  thy  stolen  dinner,  and  silence  thy  unmannerly 
tongue. — " 

"  For  the  rest,"  continued  the  giant  indifferently,  and 
as  if  he  had  not  heard  the  interruption  ;  "for  the  rest, 
he  only  resembles  Achilles,  in  being  impiger,  iracundus. 
Big  men  can  quote  Latin  as  well  as  little  ones,  Messire 
Mallet  the  beau  clerc  I " 

Mallet's  hand  was  on  his  dagger ;  and  his  eye  dilated 
like  that  of  the  panther  before  he  springs  ;  but  fortunately, 
at  that  moment,  the  deep  sonorous  voice  of  William,  ac- 
customed to  send  its  sounds  down  the  ranks  of  an  army, 
rolled  clear  through  the  assemblage,  though  pitched  little 
above  its  ordinary  key  :  — 

"  Fair  is  your  feast,  and  bright  your  wine,  Sir  King 
and  brother  mine  !  But  I  miss  here  what  king  and 
knight  hold  as  the  salt  of  the  feast  and  the  perfume  to 
the  wine  :  the  lay  of  the  minstrel.  Beshrew  me,  but 
both  Saxon  and  Norman  are  of  kindred  stock,  and  love 
to  hear  in  hall  and  bower  the  deeds  of  their  northern 
fathers.  Crave  I  therefore  from  your  glee-men,  or  harp- 
ers, some  song  of  the  olden  time  ! " 

A  murmur  of  applause  went  through  the  Norman  part 
of  the  assembly!  the  Saxons  looked  up;  and  some  of 


80  HAROLD. 

# 

the  more  practised  courtiers  sighed  wearily,  for  they  knew 
well  what  ditties  alone  were  in  favor  with  the  saintly  Ed- 
ward. 

The  low  voice  of  the  king  in  reply  was  not  heard,  but 
those  habituated  to  read  his  countenance  in  its  very  faint 
varieties  of  expression,  might  have  seen  that  it  conveyed 
reproof ;  and  its  purport  soon  became  practically  known, 
when  a  lugubrious  prelude  was  heard  from  a  quarter  of 
the  hall,  in  which  sat  certain  ghost-like  musicians  in  white 
robes  —  white  as  winding-sheets  ;  and  forthwith  a  dolor- 
ous and  dirge-like  voice  chaunted  a  long,  and  most  tedious 
recital  of  the  miracles  and  martyrdom  of  some  early  saint. 
So  monotonous  was  the  chaunt,  that  its  effect  soon  be- 
came visible  in  a  general  drowsiness.  And  when  Edward, 
who  alone  listened  with  attentive  delight,  turned  towards 
the  close  to  gather  sympathizing  admiration  from  his  dis- 
tinguished guests,  he  saw  his  nephew  yawning  as  if  his 
jaw  were  dislocated  —  the  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  with  his 
well-ringed  fingers  interlaced  and  resting  on  his  stomach, 
fast  asleep — Fitzosborne's  half-shaven  head  balancing  to 
and  fro  with  many  an  uneasy  start  —  and  William,  wide- 
awake indeed,  but  with  eyes  fixed  on  vacant  space,  and 
his  soul  far  away  from  the  gridiron  to  which  (all  other 
saints  be  praised!)  the  saint  of  the  ballad  had  at  last 
happily  arrived. 

"A  comforting  and  salutary  recital,  Count  William, " 
said  the  king. 

The  duke  started  from  his  reverie,  and  bowed  his  head  : 
then  said  rather  abruptly,  "Is  not  yon  blazon  that  of 
King  Alfred  ?  " 


HAROLD.  81 

"  Yea.     Wherefore  ?  « 

"  Hem  !  Matilda  of  Flanders  is  in  direct  descent  from 
Alfred  :  it  is  a  name  and  a  line  the  Saxons  yet  honor  ! " 

"  Surely,  yes ;  Alfred  was  a  great  man,  and  reformed 
the  Psalmster,"  replied  Edward. 

The  dirge  ceased,  but  so  benumbing  had  been  its  effect, 
that  the  torpor  it  created,  did  not  subside  with  the  cause 
There  was  a  dead  and  funereal  silence  throughout  the 
spacious  hall,  when  suddenly,  loudly,  mightily,  as  the 
blast  of  the  trumpet  upon  the  hush  of  the  grave,  rose  a 
single  voice.  All  started — all  turned — all  looked  to  one 
direction  ;  and  they  saw,  that  the  great  voice  pealed 
from  the  farthest  end  of  the  hall.  From  under  his  gown 
the  gigantic  stranger  had  drawn  a  small  three-stringeo. 
instrument — somewhat  resembling  the  modern  lute — and 
thus  he  sang  :  — 

THE    BALLAD    OF    ROU* 


From  Blois  to  Senlis,  wave  by  wave,  rolled  on  the  Norman  flood, 
And*  Frank  on  Frank  went  drifting  down  the  weltering  tide  of 

blood; 
There  was  not  left  in  all  the  land  a  castle  wall  to  fire, 
And  not  a  wife  but  wailed  a  lord,  a  child  but  mourned  a  sire. 
To  Charles  the  king,  the  mitred  monks,  the  mailed  barons  flew, 
While,  shaking  earth,  behind  them  strode,  the  thunder  march  of 

Rou. 


*  Rou — the  name  given  by  the  French  to  Rollo,  or  Rolf-ganger 
the  founder  of  the  Norman  settlement. 

7*  F 


82  HAROLD 


II. 

''0  king,"  then  cried  those  barons  bold,  "in  vain  are  mace  and 

mail, 
We  fall  before  the  Norman  axe,  as  corn  before  the  hail." 
"And  vainly,"  cried  the  pious  monks,  "by  Mary's  shrine  we  kneel, 
For  prayers,  like  arrows,  glance  aside,  against  the  Norman  steel." 
The  barons  groaned,  the  shavelings  wept,  while  near  and  neaier 

drew, 
As  death-birds  round  their  scented  feast,  the  raven  flags  of  Rou. 

in. 

Then  said  King  Charles,  "  where  thousands  fail,  what  king  can 

stand  alone? 
The  strength  of  kings  is  in  the  men  that  gather  round  the  throne. 
When  war  dismays  my  barons  bold,  'tis  time  for  war  to  cease ; 
When  Heaven  forsakes  my  pious  monks,  the  will  of  Heaven  is  peace. 
Go  forth,  my  monks,  with  mass  and  rood  the  Norman  camp  unto, 
And  to  the  fold,  with  shepherd  crook,  entice  this  grisly  Rou. 

IT. 

"  I'll  give  him  all  the  ocean  coast,  from  Michael  Mount  to  Eure, 
And  Gille,  my  child,  shall  be  his  bride,  to  bind  him  fast  and  sure ; 
Let  him  but  kiss  the  Christian  cross,   and  sheathe  the  heathen 

sword, 
And  hold  the  lands  I  cannot  keep,  a  fief  from  Charles  his  lord." 
Forth  went  the  pastors  of  the  Church,  the  Shepherd's  work  t%  do, 
Aud  wrap  the  golden  fleece  around  the  tiger  loins  of  Rou. 

v. 

I si  r  chanting  came  the  shaven  monks,  within  the  camp  of  dread  , 
Amidst  his  warriors,  Norrnan  Rou  stood  taller  by  the  head. 
Out  spoke  the  Frank  archbishop  then,  a  priest  devout „and  sage, 
"When  peace  and  plenty  wait  thy  word,  what  need  of  war  and 

rage  ? 
Why  waste  a  land  as  fair  as  aught  beneath  the  arch  of  blue, 
Which  might  be  thine  to  sow  and  reap  ?  —  Thus  saith  the  king  to 

Rou: 


HAROLD.  83 

VI. 

M  *  I'll  give  thee  all  the  ocean  coast,  from  Michael  Mount  to  Eure 
And  Gille,  my  fairest  child,  as  bride,  to  bind  thee  fast  and  sure ; 
If  thou  but  kneel  to  Christ  our  God,  and  sheathe  thy  paynim  sword, 
And  hold  thy  land,  the  Church's  son,  a  fief  from  Charles  thy  lord.'  " 
The  Norman  on  his  warriors  looked  — to  counsel  they  withdrew  ; 
The  saints  took  pity  on  the  Franks,  and  moved  the  soul  of  Rou. 

VII. 

So  back  he  strode  and  thus  he  spoke,  to  that  archbishop  meek: 
"  I  take  the  land  thy  king  bestows  from  Eure  to  Michael-peak, 
I  take  the  maid,  or  foul  or  fair,  a  bargain  with  the  coast, 
And  for  thy  creed,  a  sea-king's  gods  are  those  that  give  the  most. 
So  hie  thee  back,  and  tell  thy  chief  to  make  his  proffer  true, 
And  he  shall  find  a  docile  son,  and  ye  a  saint  in  Rou." 

VIII. 

So  o'er  the  border  stream  of  Epte  came  Rou  the  Norman,  where, 
Begirt  with  barons,  sat  the  king,  enthroned  at  green  St.  Clair ; 
He  placed  his  hand  in  Charles's  hand, — loud  shouted  all  the  throng, 
But  tears  were  in  King  Charles's  eyes — the  grip  of  Rou  was  strong. 
44 Now  kiss  the  foot,"  the  bishop  said,  "that  homage  still  is  due;" 
Then  dark  the  frown  and  stern  the  smile  of  that  grim  convert,  Rou. 

IX. 

He  tfekes  the  foot,  as  if  the  foot  to  slavish  lips  to  bring; 

The  Normans  scowl ;  he  tilts  the  throne,  and  backward  falls  the 

king. 
Loud  laugh  the  joyous  Norman  men — pale  stare  the  Franks  aghast ; 
And  Rou  lifts  up  his  head  as  from  the  wind  springs  up  the  mast : 
"I  said  I  would  adore  a  God,  but  not  a  mortal  too ; 
The  foot  that  fled  before  a  foe  let  cowards  kiss ! "  said  Rou. 

No  words  can  express  the  excitement  which  this  rough 
minstrelsy  —  marred  as  it  is  by  our  poor  translation  from 
the  Romance  tongue  in  which  it  was  chanted — produced 
amongst  the  Norman  guests ;  less  perhaps,  indeed,  the 


84  HAROLD 

song  itself,  than  the  recognition  of  the  minstrel ;  and  as 
he  closed,  from  more  than  a  hundred  voices  came  the  loud 
murmur,  only  snbclued  from  a  shout  by  the  royal  pre- 
sence, u  Taillefer,  our  Gorman  Taillefer  !  " 

"  By  our  joint  saint,  Peter,  my  cousin  the  king,"  ex- 
claimed William,  after  a  frank  cordial  laugh;  "  well  I 
wot,  no  tongue  less  free  than  my  warrior  minstrel's  could 
have  so  shocked  our  ears.  Excuse  his  bold  theme,  for 
the  sake  of  his  bold  heart,  I  pray  thee  ;  and  since  I  know 
well"  (here  the  duke's  face  grew  grave  and  anxious) 
"  that  nought  save  urgent  and  weighty  news  from  my 
stormy  realm  could  have  brought  over  this  rhyming 
petral,  permit  the  officer  behind  me  to  lead  hither  a  bird, 
I  fear,  of  omen  as  well  as  of  song." 

"  "Whatever  pleases  thee,  pleases  me,"  said  Edward, 
dryly ;  and  he  gave  the  order  to  the  attendant.  In  a 
few  moments,  up  the  space  in  the  hall,  between  either 
table,  came  the  large  stride  of  the  famous  minstrel,  pre- 
ceded by  the  officer,  and  followed  by  the  ecclesiastic. 
The  hoods  of  both  were  now  thrown  back,  and  discovered 
countenances  in  strange  contrast,  but  each  equally  worthy 
of  the  attention  it  provoked.  The  face  of  the  minstrel 
was  open  and  sunny  as  the  day ;  and  that  of  the  priest, 
dark  and  close  as  night.  Thick  curls  of  deep  auburn  (the 
most  common  color  for  the  locks  of  the  Norman)  wreathed 
in  careless  disorder  round  Taillefer's  massive  unwrinkled 
brow.  His  eye,  of  light  hazel,  was  bold  and  joyous  ; 
mirth,  though  sarcastic  and  sly,  mantled  round  his  lips, 
His  whole  presence  was  at  once  engaging  and  heroic. 


HAROLD.  85 

On  the  other  hand,  the  priest's  cheek  was  dark  and 
sallow ;  his  features  singularly  delicate  and  refined  ;  his 
forehead  high,  but  somewhat  narrow,  and  crossed  with 
lines  of  thought ;  his  mien  composed,  modest,  but  ^ot 
without  calm  self-confidence.  Amongst  that  assembly 
of  soldiers,  noiseless,  self-collected,  and  conscious  of  his 
surpassing  power  over  swords  and  mail,  moved  the 
Scholar. 

William's  keen  eye  rested  on  the  priest  with  some  sur- 
prise, not  unmixed  with  pride  and  ire ;  but  first  address- 
ing Taillefer,  who  now  gained  the  foot  of  the  dais,  he 
said,  with  a  familiarity  almost  fond  — 

"Now,  by're  lady,  if  thou  bringest  not  ill  news,  thy 
gay  face,  man,  is  pleasanter  to  mine  eyes  than  thy  rough 
song  to  my  ears.  Kneel,  Taillefer,  kneel  to  King  Ed- 
ward, and  with  more  address,  rogue,  than  our  unlucky 
countryman  to  King  Charles." 

But  Edward,  as  ill-liking  the  form  of  the  giant  Us  the 
subject  of  his  lay,  said,  pushing  back  his  seat  as  far  as 
he  could  — 

"  Nay,  nay,  we  excuse  thee,  we  excuse  thee,  tall  man." 
Nevertheless,  the  minstrel  still  knelt,  and  so,  with  a  look 
of  profound  humility,  did  the  priest.  Then  both  slowly 
rose,  and  at  a  sign  from  the  duke,  passed  to  the  other 
side  of  the  table,  standing  behind  Fitzosborne's  chair. 

"  Clerk,"  said  William,  eyeing  deliberately  the  sallow 
face  of  the  ecclesiastic  ;  "  I  know  thee  of  old  ;  and  if  the 
church  have  sent  me  an  envoy,  per  la  resplendar  De%  it 
should  have  sent  me  at  least  an  abbot." 

L—  8 


86  HAROLD. 

"Bein,  Hein!"  said  Taillefer,  bluntly;  "vex  not  mv 
ban  camarade,  Count  of  the  Normans.  Gramercy,  thou 
wilt  welcome  him,  peradventure,  better  than  me  ;  for  the 
singer  tells  but  of  discord,  and  the  sage  may  restore  the 
harmony." 

"  Ha  !  "  said  the  duke  ;  and  the  frown  fell  so  dark  over 
his  eyes  that  the  last  seemed  only  visible  by  two  sparks 
of  fire.  "  I  guess,  my  proud  Vavasours  are  mutinous. 
Retire,  thou  and  thy  comrade.  Await  me  ia  my  cham- 
ber. The  feast  shall  not  flag  in  London  because  the  wind 
blows  a  gale  in  Rouen." 

The  two  envoys,  since  so  they  seemed,  bowed  in  silence 
and  withdrew. 

"Nought  of  ill-tidings,  I  trust,"  said  Edward,  who 
had  not  listened  to  the  whispered  communications  that 
had  passed  between  the  duke  and  his  subjects.  "  No 
schism  in  thy  church  !  The  clerk  seemed  a  peaceful  man, 
and  a  humble." 

"AnMhere  were,  schism  in  my  church,"  said  the  fiery 
duke  ;  "  my  brother  of  Bayeux  would  settle  it  by  argu- 
ments as  close  as  the  gap  between  cord  and  throttle." 

"All  !  thou  art,  doubtless,  well  read  in  the  canons, 
holy  Odo!"  said  the  king,  t'urning  to  the  bishop  with 
more  respect  than  he  had  yet  evinced  towards  that  gentle 
prelate. 

"  Canons,  yes,  seigneur,  I  draw  them  up  myself  for  my 
flock,  conformably  with  such  interpretations  of  the  Roman 
Church  as  suit  best  with  the  Norman  realm  ;  and  woe  to 


HAROLD.  87 

deacon,  monk,  or  abbot,  who   chooses   to   misconstrue 
them."* 

The  bishop  looked  so  truculent  and  menacing,  while 
his  fancy  thus  conjured  up  the  possibility  of  heretical 
dissent,  that  Edward  shrank  from  him  as  he  had  done 
from  Taillefer ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  after,  on  exchange 
of  signals  between  himself  and  the  duke,  who,  impatient 
to  escape,  was  too  stately  to  testify  that  desire,  the  retire- 
ment of  the  royal  party  broke  up  the  banquet ;  save,  in- 
deed, that  a  few  of  the  elder  Saxons,  and  more  incor- 
rigible Danes,  still  steadily  kept  their  seats,  and  were 
finally  dislodged  from  their  later  settlements  on  the  stone 
floors,  to  find  themselves,  at  dawn,  carefully  propped  in 
a  row  against  the  outer  walls  of  the  palace,  with  their 
patient  attendants,  holding  links,  and  gazing  on  their 
masters  with  stolid  envy,  if  not  of  the  repose  at  least  of 
the  drugs  that  had  caused  it. 


*  Pious  severity  to  the  heterodox  was  a  Norman  virtue.  William 
of  Poictiers  says  of  William,  "One  knows  with  what  zeal  he  pur- 
sued and  exterminated  those  who  thought  differently;"  i.e.,  on 
transubstantiation.  But  the  wise  Norman,  while  flattering  the 
tastes  of  the  Roman  Pontiff  in  such  matters,  took  special  care  to 
preserve  the  independence  of  his  Church  from  any  undue  dictation. 


88  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER   II. 

"And  now,"  said  William,  reclining  on  a  long  and 
narrow  couch,  with  raised  carved-work  all  round  it  like 
a  box  (the  approved  fashion  of  a  bed  in  those  days), 
"now,  Sire  Taillefer  —  thy  news." 

There  were  then  in  the  .duke's  chamber,  the  Count 
Fitzosborne,  Lord  of  Breteuil,  surnamed  "the  Proud 
Spirit " — who,  with  great  dignity,  was  holding  before  the 
brazier  the  ample  tunic  of  linen  (called  dormiiorium  in 
the  Latin  of  that  time,  and  night-rail  in  the  Saxon 
tongue),  in  which  his  lord  was  to  robe  his  formidable 
limbs  for  repose,* — Taillefer,  who  stood  erect  before  the 
duke  as  a  Roman  sentry  at  his  post, — and  the  ecclesiastic, 
a  little  apart,  with  arms  gathered  under  his  gown,  and 
his  bright  dark  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

"  High  and  puissant,  my  liege,"  then  said  Taillefer, 
gravely,  and  with  a  shade  of  sympathy  on  his  large  face, 
"  my  news  is  such  as  is  best  told  briefly  :  Bunaz,  Count 
d'Eu  and  descendant  of  Richard  Sanspeur,  hath  raised 
the  standard  of  revolt." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  duke,  clenching  his  hand. 

"  Henry,  King  of  the  French,  is  treating  with  the  rebel, 

*  A  few  generations  later  this  comfortable  and  decent  fashion  of 
night-gear  was  abandoned ;  and  our  forefathers,  Saxon  and  Nor- 
man, went  to  bed  in  puris  naturalibus,  like  the  Laplanders. 


HAROLD.  89 

and  stirring  up  mutiny  in  thy  realm,  and  pretenders  to 
thy  throne." 

"  Ha  ! "  said  the  duke,  and  his  lip  quivered  ;  "  this  is 
not  all?" 

"  No,  my  liege  !  and  the  worst  is  to  come.  Thy  uncle 
Mauger,  knowing  that  thy  heart  is  bent  on  thy  speedy 
nuptials  with  the  high  and  noble  damsel,  Matilda  of 
Flanders,  has  broken  out  again  in  thine  absence  —  is 
preaching  against  thee  in  hall  and  from  pulpit.  He 
declares  that  such  espousals  are  incestuous,  both  as  within 
the  forbidden  degrees,  and  inasmuch  as  Adele,  the  lady's 
mother,  was  betrothed  to  thine  uncle  Richard ;  and 
Mauger  menaces  excommunication  if  my  liege  pursues 
his  suit !  *  So  troubled  is  the  realm,  that  I,  waiting  not 
for  debate  in  council,  and  fearing  sinister  ambassage  if  1 
did  so,  took  ship  from  thy  port  of  Cherburg,  and  have 
not  flagged  rein,  and  scarce  broken  bread,  till  I  could 
say  to  the  heir  of  Rolf  the  Founder  —  Save  thy  realm 
from  the  men  of  mail,  and  thy  bride  from  the  knaves  in 
serge." 

"  Ho,  ho  !  "  cried  William  •  then  bursting  forth  in  full 

*  Most  of  the  chroniclers  merely  state  the  parentage  within  the 
forbidden  degrees  as  the  obstacle  to  William's  marriage  with 
Matilda;  but  the  betrothal  or  rather  nuptials  of  her  mother  Adele 
with  Richard  III.  (though  never  consummated)  appears  to  have 
been  the  true  canonical  objection.  —  See  note  to  Wace,  p.  27. 
Nevertheless,  Matilda's  mother  x-idele  stood  in  the  relation  of  aunt 
to  William,  as  widow  of  his  father's  elder  brother,  "an  affinity,'* 
as  is  observed  by  a  writer  in  the  "Archseologia,"  "quite  near 
enough  to  account  for,  if  not  to  justify,  the  interference  of  the 
Church."  —  Arch.  vol.  xxxii.  p.  109. 
8* 


90  HAROLD. 

wrath,  as  he  sprang  from  the  couch,  "  Hearest  thou  this, 
Lord  Seneschal  ?  Seven  years,  the  probation  of  the 
patriarch,  have  I  wooed  and  waited ;  and  lo,  in  the 
seventh,  does  a  proud  priest  say  to  me,  '  Wrench  the  love 
from  thy  heart-strings  ! ' — Excommunicate  me  —  me  — 
William,  the  son  of  Robert  the  Devil!  Ha,  by  God's 
splendor,  Mauger  shall  live  to  wish  the  father  stood,  in 
the  foul  fiend's  true  likeness,  by  his  side,  rather  than 
brave  the  bent  brow  of  the  son  ! " 

"  Dread  my  lord,"  said  Fitzosborne,  desisting  from  his 
employ,  and  rising  to  his  feet ;  "  thou  knowest  that  I  am 
thy  true  friend  and  leal  knight ;  thou  knowest  how  I  have 
aided  thee  in  this  marriage  with  the  lady  of  Flanders, 
and  how  gravely  I  think  that  what  pleases  thy  fancy  will 
guard  thy  realm  ;  but  rather  than  brave  the  order  of  the 
Church,  and  the  ban  of  the  Pope,  I  would  see  thee  wed 
to  the  poorest  virgin  in  Normandy." 

William,  who  had  been  pacing  the  room,  like  an  en- 
raged lion  in  his  den,  halted  in  amaze  at  this  bold  speech. 

"  This  from  thee,  William  Fitzosborne  !  —  from  thee  ! 
I  tell  thee,  that  if  all  the  priests  in  Christendom,  and  all 
the  barons  in  France,  stood  between  me  and  my  bride,  I 
would  hew  my  way  through  the  midst.  Foes  invade  my 
realm  —  let  them;  princes  conspire  against  me  —  I  smile 
in  scorn  ;  subjects  mutiny  —  this  strong  hand  can  punish, 
or  this  large  heart  can  forgive.  All  these  are  the 
dangers  which  he  who  governs  men  should  prepare  to 
meet  ;  but  man  has  a  right  to  his  love,  as  the  stag  to  his 
hind.     And  he  who  wrongs  me  here,  is  foe  and  traitor  to 


HAROLD.  9i 

me,  not  as  Norman  duke  but  as  human  being.     Look  to 
it  —  thou  and  thy  proud  barons,  look  to  it!" 

11  Proud  may  thy  barons  be,"  said  Fitzosborne,  redden- 
ing, and  with  a  brow  that  quailed  not  before  his  lord's ; 
"for  they  are  the  sons  of  those  who  carved  out  the  realm 
of  the  Norman,  and  owned  in  Rou  but  the  feudal  chief 
of  free  warriors ;  vassals  are  not  villeins.  And  that 
which  we  hold  our  duty  —  whether  to  Church  or  chief — 
that  Duke  William,  thy  proud  barons  will  doubtless  do  ; 
nor  less,  believe  me,  for  threats  which,  braved  in  dis-r 
charge  of  duty  and  defence  of  freedom,  we  hold  as  air." 

The  duke  gazed  on  his  haughty  subject  with  an  eye  in 
which  a  meaner  spirit  might  have  seen  its  doom.  The 
veins  in  his  broad  temples  swelled  like  cords,  and  a  light 
foam  gathered  round  his  quivering  lips.  But  fiery  and 
fearless  as  William  was,  not  less  was  he  sagacious  and 
profound.  In  that  one  man  he  saw  the  representative 
of  that  superb  and  matchless  chivalry — that  race  of  races 
— those  men  of  men,  in  whom  the  brave  acknowledge  the 
highest  example  of  valiant  deeds,  and  the  free  the  manli- 
est assertion  of  noble  thoughts,*  since  the  day  when  the 

*  It  might  be  easy  to  show,  were  this  the  place,  that  though  the 
Saxons  never  lost  their  love  of  liberty,  yet  that  the  victories  which 
gradually  regained  the  liberty  from  the  gripe  of  the  Anglo-Norman 
kings,  were  achieved  by  the  Anglo-Norman  aristocracy.  And  even 
to  this  day,  the  few  rare  descendants  of  that  race  (whatever  their 
political  faction),  will  generally  exhibit  that  impatience  of  despotic 
influence,  and  that  disdain  of  corruption,  which  characterize  the 
homely  bonders  of  Norway,  in  whom  we  may  still  recognize  the 
sturdy  likeness  of  their  fathers ;  while  it  is  also  remarkable  that 
the  modern  inhabitants  of  those  portions  of  the  kingdom  originally 


92  HAROLD 

last  Athenian  covered  his  head  with  his  mantle,  and 
mutely  died;  and  far  from  being  the  most  stubborn 
against  his  will,  it  was  to  Fitzosborne's  paramount 
influence  with  the  council,  that  he  had  often  owed  their 
submission  to  his  wishes,  and  their  contributions  to  his 
wars.  In  the  very  tempest  of  his  wrath,  he  felt  that  the 
blow  he  longed  to  strike  on  that  bold  head  would  shiver 
his  ducal  throne  to  the  dust.  He  felt  too,  that  awful 
indeed  was  that  power  of  the  Church  which  could  thus 
turn  against  him  the  heart  of  his  truest  knight :  and  he 
began  (for  with  all  his  outward  frankness  his  temper  was 
suspicious)  to  wrong  the  great-souled  noble  by  the 
thought  that  he  might  already  be  won  over  by  the  enemies 
whom  Mauger  had  arrayed  against  his  nuptials.  There- 
fore, mth  one  of  those  rare  and  mighty  efforts  of  that 
dissiinulation  which  debased  his  character,  but  achieved 
his  fortunes,  he  cleared  his  brow  of  its  dark  cloud,  and 
said  in  a  low  voice,  that  was  not  without  its  pathos  — 

"  Had  an  angel  from  heaven  forewarned  me  that  Wil- 
liam Fitzosborne  would  speak  thus  to  his  kinsman  and 
brother  in  arms,  in  the  hour  of  need  and  the  agony  of 
passion,  I  would  have  disbelieved  him.     Let  it  pass " 

But,  ere  the  last  word  was  out  of  his  lips,  Fitzosborne 
had  fallen  on  his  knees  before  the  duke,  and,  clasping  his 
hand,  exclaimed,  while  the  tears  rolled  down  his  swarthy 

peopled  by  their  kindred  Danes,  are,  irrespective  of  mere  party 
divisions,  noted  for  their  intolerance  of  all  oppression,  and  their 
resolute  independence  of  character;  to  wit,  Yorkshire,  Norfolk 
Cumberland,  and  large  districts  in  the  Scottish  lowlands. 


HAROLD.  93 

cheek,  "  Pardon,  pardon,  my  liege  !  when  thou  speakest 
thus,  my  heart  melts.  What  thou  wiliest,  that  will  I  ! 
Church  or  Pope,  no  matter.  Send  me  to  Flanders;  I 
will  bring  back  thy  bride." 

The  slight  smile  that  curved  William's  lip,  showed  that 
he  was  scarce  worthy  of  that  sublime  weakness  in  his 
friend.  But  he  cordially  pressed  the  hand  that  grasped 
his  own,  and  said,  "  Rise  ;  thus  should  brother  speak  to 
brother."  Then  —  for  his  wrath  was  only  concealed,  not 
stifled,  and  yearned  for  its  vent  —  his  eye  fell  upon  the 
delicate  and  thoughtful  face  of  the  priest,  who  had 
watched  this  short  and  stormy  conference  in  profound 
silence,  despite  Taillefer's  whispers  to  him  to  interrupt 
the  dispute.  "So,  priest,"  he  said,  "I  remember  me 
that  when  Mauger  before  let  loose  his  rebellious  tongue 
thou  didst  lend  thy  pedant  learning  to  eke  out  his  brain- 
less treason.  Methought  that  I  then  banished  thee  my 
realm  ?  " 

"  Not  so,  Count  and  Seigneur,"  answered  the  ecclesi- 
astic, with  a  grate  but  arch  smile  on  his  lip  ;  "  let  me 
remind  thee,  that  to  speed  me  back  to  my  native  land 
thou  didst  graciously  send  me  a  horse,  halting  on  three 
legs,  and  all  lame  on  the  fourth.  Thus  mounted,  I  met 
thee  on  my  road.  I  saluted  thee  ;  so  did  the  beast,  for 
his  head  well-nigh  touched  the  ground.  Whereon  I  did 
ask  thee,  in  a  Latin  play  of  words,  to  give  me  at  least  a 
quadruped,  not    a  tripod,  for   my  journey.*     Gracious 

*  Ex  pervetusto  codice,  MS.  Chron.  Bee.  in  Vit.  Lanfrancy  quoted 
Id  the  v<  Archgaologia/'  vol.  xxxii.  p.  109.     The  joke,  which  is  very 


94  HAROLD. 

even  in  ire,  and  with  relenting  laugh,  was  thine  answer. 
My  liege,  thy  words  implied  banishment  —  thy  laughter, 
pardon.     So  I  stayed." 

Despite  his  wrath,  William  could  scarcely  repress  a 
smile  ,  but  recollecting  himself,  he  replied,'  more  gravely, 
"  Peace  with  this  levity,  priest.  Doubtless,  thou  art  the 
envoy  from  this  scrupulous  Mauger,  or  some  other  of  my 
gentle  clergy ;  and  thou  comest,  as  doubtless,  with  soft 
words,  and  whining  homilies.  It  is  in  vain.  I  hold  the 
Church  in  holy  reverence ;  the  pontiff  knows  it.  But 
Matilda  of  Flanders  I  -have  wooed  ;  and  Matilda  of 
Flanders  shall  sit  by  my  side  in  the  halls  of  Rouen,  or 
on  the  deck  of  my  war-ship,  till  it  anchors  on  a  land 
worthy  to  yield  a  new  domain  to  the  son  of  the  Sea- 
king." 

"  In  the  halls  of  Rouen — and  it  may  be  on  the  throne 
of  England — shall  Matilda  reign  by  the  side  of  William," 
said  the  priest,  in  a  clear,  low,  and  emphatic  voice  ;  "  and 
it  was  to  tell  my  lord  the  duke  that  I  repent  me  of  my 
first  unconsidered  obeisance  to  Mauger  as  my  spiritual 
superior ;  that  since  then  I  have  myself  examined  canon 
and  precedent ;  and  though  the  letter  of  the  law  be  against 
thy  spousals,  it  comes  precisely  under  the  category  of  those 
alliances  to  which  the  fathers  of  the  Church  accord  dis- 
pensation :  —  it  is  to  tell  thee  this,  that  I;  plain  Doctor 
of  Laws  and  priest  of  Pavia,  have  crossd  the  seas." 

poor,  seems  to  have  turned  upon  pcde  and  quadrupede ;  it  is  a  little 
altered  in  the  text. 


HAROLD.  95 

"  Ha  Rou  ! — Ha  Rou  ! "  cried  Taillefer,  with  his  usual 
bluffness,  and  laughing  with  great  glee,  "  why  wouldst 
thou  not  listen  to  me,  monseigneur  ?" 

11  If  thou  deceivest  me  not,"  said  William,  in  surprise, 
"and  thou  canst  make  good  thy  words,  no  prelate  in 
Neustria,  save  Odo  of  Bayeux,  shall  lift  his  head  high  as 
thirs."  And  here,  William,  deeply  versed  in  the  science 
of  men,  bent  his  eyes  keenly  upon  the  unchanging  and 
earnest  face  of  the  speaker.  "Ah,"  he  burst  out,  as  if 
satisfied  with  the  survey,  "  and  my  mind  tells  me  that  thou 
speakest  not  thus  boldly  and  calmly  without  ground  suffi- 
cient.    Man,  I  like  thee.     Thy  name  ?     I  forget  it." 

"  Lanfranc  of  Pavia,  please  you,  my  lord  ;  called  some 
times,  '  Lanfranc  the  Scholar '  in  thy  cloister  of  Bee.  Not 
misdeem  me,  that  I,  humble,  unmitred  priest,  should  be 
thus  bold.  In  birth  I  am  noble,  and  my  kindred  stand 
near  to  the  grace  of  our  ghostly  pontiff;  to  the  pontiff  I 
myself  am  not  unknown.  Did  I  desire  honors,  in  Italy  I 
might  seek  them  ;  it  is  not  so.  I  crave  no  guerdon  for 
the  service  I  proffer;  none  but  this  —  leisure  and  books 
in  the  Convent  of  Bee." 

"Sit  down  —  nay,  sit,  man,"  said  William,  greatly  in- 
terested, but  still  suspicious.  "  One  riddle  only  I  ask 
thee  to  solve,  before  I  give  thee  all  my  trust,  and  place 
my  very  heart  in  thy  hands.  Why,  if  thou  desirest  not 
rewards,  shouldst  thou  thus  care  to  serve  me  —  th'>a,  a 
foreigner  ?" 

A  light,  brilliant  and  calm,  shone  in  the  eyes  of  the 
scholar,  and  a  blush  spread  over  his  pale  cheeks. 


96  HAROLD. 

-  My  Lord  Prince,  I  will  answer  in  plain  words.  But 
first  permit  me  to  be  the  questioner." 

The  priest  turned  towards  Fitzosborne,  who  had  seated 
himself  on  a  stool  at  William's  feet,  and,  leaning  his  chin 
on  his  hand,  listened  to  the  ecclesiastic,  not  more  with 
devotion  to  his  calling,  than  wonder  at  the  influence  one 
so  obscure  was  irresistiby  gaining  over  his  own  martial 
spirit,  and  William's  iron  craft. 

"  Lovest  thou  not,  William  Lord  of  Breteuil,  lovest 
thou  not  fame  for  the  sake  of  fame  1 " 

"  Sur  mon  time,  —  yes  ! "  said  the  baron. 

"And  thou,  Taillefer  the  minstrel,  lovest  thou  not  song 
for  the  sake  of  song?" 

0 

"  For  song  alone,"  replied  the  mighty  minstrel.  "  More 
gold  in  one  ringing  rhyme  than  in  all  the  coffers  of  Chris- 
tendom." 

"And  marvellest  thou,  reader  of  men's  hearts,"  said 
the  scholar,  turning  once  more  to  William,  "that  the 
student  loves  knowledge  for  the  sake  of  knowledge  ? 
Born  of  high  race,  poor  in  purse,  and  slight  of  thews, 
betimes  I  found  wealth  in  books,  and  drew  strength  from 
lore.  I  heard  of  the  Count  of  Rouen  and  the  Normans, 
as  a  prince  of  small  domain,  with  a  measureless  spirit,  a 
lover  of  letters,  and  a  captain  in  war.  I  came  to  thy 
duchy,  I  noted  its  subjects  and  its  prince,  and  the  words 
of  Themistocles  rang  in  my  ear  :  '  I  cannot  play  the  lute, 
but  I  can  make  a  small  state  great.'  I  felt  an  interest  irk 
thy  strenuous  and  troubled  career.  I  believe  that  know- 
ledge, to  spread  amongst  the  nations,  must  first  find  a 


HAROLD.  97 

nursery  in  the  brain  of  kings  ;  and  I  saw  in  the  deed- 
doer,  the  agent  of  the  thinker.  In  those  espousals,  on 
which  with  untiring  obstinacy  thy  heart  is  set,  I  might 
sympathize  with  thee;  perchance''  (here  a  melancholy 
smile  flitted  over  the  student's  pale  lips),  "  perchance 
even  as  a  lover :  priest  though  I  be  now,  and  dead  to 
human  love,  once  I  loved,  and  I  know  what  it  is  to  strive 
in  hope,  and  to  waste  in  despair.  But  my  sympathy,  I 
own,  was  more  given  to  the  prince  than  to  the  lover.  It 
was  natural  that  I,  priest  and  foreigner,  should  obey  at 
first  the  orders  of  Mauger,  arch-prelate  and  spiritual 
chief,  and  the  more  so  as  the  law  was  with  him  ;  but  when 
I  resolved  to  stay,  despite  thy  sentence  which  banished 
me,  I  resolved  to  aid  thee ;  for  if  with  Mauger  was  the 
dead  law,  with  thee  was  the  living  cause  of  man.  Duke 
William,  on  thy  nuptials  with  Matilda  of  Flanders  rests 
thy  duchy  —  rest,  perchance,  the  mightier  sceptres  that 
are  yet  to  come.  Thy  title  disputed,  thy  principality  new 
and  unestablished,  thou,  above  all  men,  must  link  thy  new 
race  with  the  ancient  line  of  kings  and  kaisars.  Ma- 
tilda is  the  descendant  of  Charlemagne  and  Alfred.  Thy 
realm  is  insecure  as  long  as  France  undermines  it  with 
plots,  and  threatens  it  with  arms.  Marry  the  daughter 
of  Baldwin — and  thy  wife  is  the  niece  of  Henry  of  France 
— thine  enemy  becomes  thy  kinsman,  and  must,  perforce, 
be  thine  ally.  This  is  not  all ;  it  were  strange,  looking 
round  this  disordered  royalty  of  England  —  a  childless 
king,  who  loves  thee  better  than  his  own  blood  ;  a  divided 
nobility,  already  adopting  the  fashions  of  the  stranger, 
I.  — 9  G 


98  HAROLD. 

and  accustomed  to  shift  their  faith  from  Saxon  to  Dane, 
and  Dane  to  Saxon  ;  a  people  that  has  respect  indeed 
for  brave  chiefs,  bit,  seeing  new  men  rise  daily  from  new 
houses,  has  no  reverence  for  ancient  lines  and  hereditary 
names ;  with  a  vast  mass  of  villeins  or  slaves  that  have 
no  interest  in  the  land  or  its  rulers ;  strange,  seeing  all 
this,  if  thy  day-dreams  have  not  also  beheld  a  Norman 
sovereign  on  the  throne  of  Saxon  England.  And  thy 
marriage  with  the  descendant  of  the  best  and  most  be- 
loved prince  that  ever  ruled  these  realms,  if  it  does  not 
give  thee  a  title  to  the  land,  may  help  to  conciliate  its 
affections,  and  to  fix  thy  posterity  in  the  halls  of  their 
mother's  kin.  Have  I  said  eno'  to  prove  why,  for  the 
sake  of  nations,  it  were  wise  for  the  pontiff  to  stretch  the 
harsh  girths  of  the  law  ?  why  I  might  be  enabled  to  prove 
to  the  Court  of  Rome  the  policy  of  conciliating  the  love, 
and  strengthening  the  hands,  of  the  Norman  count,  who 
may  so  become  the  main  prop  of  Christendom  ?  Yea, 
have  I  said  eno'  to  prove  that  the  humble  clerk  can  look 
on  mundane  matters  with  the  eye  of  a  man  who  can  make 
small  states  great?" 

William  remained  speechless  —  his  hot  blood  thrilled 
with  a  half-superstitious  awe ;  so  thoroughly  had  this 
obscure  Lombard  divine  detailed  all  the  intricate  meshes 
of  that  policy  with  which  he  himself  had  interwoven  his 
pertinacious  affection  for  the  Flemish  princess,  that  it 
seemed  to  him  as  if  he  listened  to  the  echo  of  his  owu 
heart,  or  heard  from  a  soothsayer  the  voice  of  his  most 
secret  thoughts 


HAROLD.  99 

The  priest  continued  :  — 

11  Wherefore,  thus  considering,  I  said  to  myself,  Now 
has  the  time  come,  Lanfranc  the  Lombard,  to  prove  to 
thee  whether  thy  self-boastings  have  been  a  vain  deceit, 
or  whether,  in  this  age  of  iron,  and  amidst  this  lust  of 
gold,  thou,  the  penniless  and  the  feeble,  canst  make 
knowledge  and  wit  of  more  avail  to  the  destinies  of  kings 
than  armed  men  and  filled  treasuries.  I  believe  in  that 
power.  I  am  ready  for  the  test.  Pause,  judge  from 
what  the  Lord  of  Breteuil  hath  said  to  thee,  what  will 
be  the  defection  of  thy  lords  if  the  Pope  confirm  the 
threatened  excommunication  of  thine  uncle.  Thine  armies 
will  rot  from  thee  ;  thy  treasures  will  be  like  dry  leaves 
in  thy  coffers ;  the  Duke  of  Bretagne  will  claim  thy 
duchy  as  the  legitimate  heir  of  thy  forefathers ;  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy  will  league  with  the  King  of  France,  and 
march  on  thy  faithless  legions  under  the  banner  of  the 
Church.  The  hand-writing  is  on  the  walls,  and  thy 
sceptre  and  thy  crown  will  pass  away." 

William  set  his  teeth  firmly,  and  breathed  hard. 

"But  send  me  to  Rome,  thy  delegate,  and  the  thunder 
of  Mauger  shall  fall  powerless.  Marry  Matilda,  bring 
her  to  thy  halls,  place  her  on  thy  throne,  laugh  to  scorn 
the  interdict  of  thy  traitor  uncle,  and  rest  assured  that 
the  Pope  shall  send  thee  his  dispensation  to  thy  spousals, 
and  his  benison  on  thy  marriage-bed.  And  when  this 
be  done,  Duke  William,  give  me  not  abbacies  and  pre- 
lacies ;  multiply  books,  and  stablish  schools,  and  bid  thy 


100  HAROLD. 

Bervant  found  the  royalty  of  knowledge,  as  thou  shalt 
found  the  sovereignty  of  war." 

The  duke,  transported  from  himself,  leaped  up  and 
embraced  the  priest  with  his  vast  arms ;  he  kissed  his 
cheeks,  he  kissed  his  forehead,  as,  in  those  days,  king 
kissed  king  with  "  the  kiss  of  peace." 

u  Lanfranc  of  Pavia,"  he  cried,  "  whether  thou  succeed 
or  fail,  thou  hast  my  love  and  gratitude  evermore.  As 
thou  speakest,  would  I  have  spoken,  had  I  been  born, 
framed,  and  reared  as  thou.  And,  verily,  when  I  hear 
thee,  I  blush  for  the  boasts  of  my  barbarous  pride,  that 
no  man  can  wield  my  mace,  or  bend  my  bow.  Poor  is 
the  strength  of  body  —  a  web  of  law  can  entangle  it,  and 
a  word  from  a  priest's  mouth  can  palsy.  Bat  thou  !  — 
let  me  look  at  thee." 

William  gazed  on  the  pale  face ;  from  head  to  foot  he 
scanned  the  delicate,  slender  form,  and  then  turning 
away,  he  said  to  Fitzosborne  — 

"  Thou,  whose  mailed  hand  hath  felled  a  war-steed, 
art  thou  not  ashamed  of  thyself?  The  day  is  coming,  I 
see  it  afar,  when  these  slight  men  shall  set  their  feet  upon 
our  corslets." 

He  paused  as  if  in  thought,  again  paced  the  room,  and 
stopped  before  the  crucifix,  and  image  of  the  Virgin, 
which  stood  in  a  niche  near  the  bed-head. 

"  Right,  noble  prince,"  said  the  priest's  low  voice. 
"Pause  there  for  a  solution  to  all  enigmas;  there  view 
the  symbol  of  all-enduring  power ;  there  learn  its  ends 


HAROLD.  101 

below  —  comprehend  the  account  it  must  yield  above. 
To  your  thoughts  and  your  prayers  we  leave  you." 

He  took  the  stalwart  arm  of  Taillefer,  as  he  spoke 
and,   with  a  grave    obeisance  to   Fitzosborne,  •  left  the 
chamber. 


CHAPTER   III. 

The  next  morning  William  was  long  closeted  alone 
with  Lanfranc  —  that  man,  among  the  most  remarkable 
of  his  age,  of  whom  it  was  said,  that  "to  comprehend 
the  extent  of  his  talents,  one  must  be  Herodian  in 
grammar,  Aristotle  in  dialectics,  Cicero  in  rhetoric, 
Augustine  and  Jerome  in  Scriptural  lore,"*  —  and  ere 
the  noon  the  duke's  gallant  and  princely  train  were 
ordered  to  be  in  readiness  for  return  home. 

The  crowd  in  the  broad  space,  and  the  citizens  from 
their  boats  in  the  river,  gazed  on  the  knights  and  steeds 
of  that  gorgeous  company,  already  drawn  up  and  await- 
ing without  the  open  gates  the  sound  of  the  trumpets 
that  should  announce  the  duke's  departure.  Before  the 
hall-door  in  the  inner  court  were  his  own  men.  The 
snow-white  steed  of  Odo  ;  the  alezan  of  Fitzosborne ; 
and,  to  the  marvel  of  all,  a  small  palfrey  plainly  capa- 
risoned What  did  that  palfrey  amid  those  steeds?  — 
the  steeds  themselves  seemed  to  chafe  at  the  companion- 

*  Ord.  Vital. 


102  HAROLD 

sliip ;  the  dake's  charger  pricked  up  his  ears  and  snorted; 
the  Lord  of  Breteuil's  alezan  kicked  out,  as  the  poor  nag 
humbly  drew  near  to  make  acquaintance ;  and  the  pre- 
late's white  barb,  with  red  vicious  eye,  and  ears  laid 
down,  ran  fiercely  at  the  low-bred  intruder,  with  difficulty 
reined  in  by  the  squires,  who  shared  the  beast's  amaze 
and  resentment. 

Meanwhile  the  duke  thoughtfully  took  his  way  to  Ed- 
ward's apartments.  In  the  ante  room  were  many  monks 
and  many  knights;  but  conspicuous  amongst  them  all 
was  a  tall  and  stately  veteran,  leaning  on  a  great  two- 
handed  sword,  and  whose  dress  and  fashion  of  beard 
were  those  of  the  last  generation,  the  men  who  had  fought 
with  Canute  the  Great  or  Edmund  Ironsides.  So  grand 
was  the  old  man's  aspect,  and  so  did  he  contrast  in 
appearance,  the  narrow  garb  and  shaven  chins  of  those 
around,  that  the  duke  was  roused  from  his  reverie  at  the 
sight,  and  marvelling  why  one,  evidently  a  chief  of  high 
rank,  had  neither  graced  the  banquet  in  his  honor,  nor 
been  presented  to  his  notice,  he  turned  to  the  earl  of 
Hereford,  who  approached  him  with  gay  salutation,  and 
inquired  the  name  and  title  of  the  bearded  man  in  the 
loose  flowing  robe. 

"  Know  you  not,  in  truth  ? "  said  the  lively  earl,  in 
some  wonder.  "  In  him  you  see  the  great  rival  of  God- 
win. He  is  the  hero  of  the  Danes,  as  Godwin  is  of  the 
Saxons,  a  true  son  of  Odin,  Siward  Earl  of  the  North- 
umbrians."* 

*  Siward  was  almost  a  giant  {pent  gigas  statura).     There  are 


HAROLD.  103 

•'  Notre  Dame  be  my  aid,  —  his  fame  hath  oft  filled  my 
ears,  and  I  should  have  lost  the  most  welcome  sight  in 
merrie  England  had  I  not  now  beheld  him." 

Therewith,  the  duke  approached  courteously,  and, 
doffing  the  cap  he  had  hitherto  retained,  he  greeted  the 
old  hero  with  those  compliments  which  the  Norman  had 
already  learned  in  the  courts  of  the  Frank. 

The  stout  earl  received  them  coldly,  and  replying  in 
Danish  to  William's  Romance  tongue,  he  said, 

"  Pardon,  Count  of  the  Normans,  if  these  old  lips 
cling  to  their  old  words.  Both  of  us,  methinks,  date  our 
lineage  from  the  lands  of  the  Norse.  Suffer  Siward  to 
speak  the  language  the  sea-kings  spoke.  The  old  oak 
is  not  to  be  transplanted,  and  the  old  man  keeps  the 
ground  where  his  youth  took  root." 

The  duke,  who  with  some  difficulty  comprehended  the 
general  meaning  of  Siward's  speech,  bit  his  lip,  but  re- 
plied courteously,  — 

"  The  youths  of  all  nations  may  learn  from  renowned 
age.     Much  doth  it  shame  me  that  I  cannot  commune 

some  curious  anecdotes  of  this  hero,  immortalized  by  Shakspere, 
in  the  "  Bromton  Chronicle."  His  grandfather  is  said  to  have 
been  a  bear,  who  fell  in  love  with  a  Danish  lady ;  and  his  father, 
Beorn,  retained  some  of  the  traces  of  the  parental  physiognomy  in 
a  pair  of  pointed  ears.  The  origin  of  this  fable  seems  evident. 
His  grandfather  was  a  Berserker:  fyr  whether  that  name  be  de- 
rived, as  is  more  generally  supposed,  from  bare-sark,  or  rather 
from  bear-sark,  that  is,  whether  this  grisly  specimen  of  the  Viking 
genus  fought  in  his  shirt  or  his  bear-skin,  the  name  equally  lends 
itself  to  those  mystifications  from  which  half  the  old  legends, 
whether  of  Greece  or  Norway,  are  derived. 


104  HAROLD. 

with  thee  in  the  ancestral  tongue  ;  but  the  angels  at  least 
know  the  language  of  the  Norman  Christian,  and  I  pray 
them  and  the  saints  for  a  calm  end  to  thy  brave  career." 

"  Pray  not  to  angel  or  saint  for  Siward  son  of  Beorn," 
said  the  old  man  hastily  ;  "  let  me  not  have  a  cow's 
death,  but  a  warrior's ;  die  in  my  mail  of  proof,  axe  in 
hand,  and  helm  on  head.  And  such  may  be  my  death, 
if  Edward  the  king  reads  my  rede  and  grants  my  prayer." 

"  I  have  influence  with  the  king,"  said  William  ;  "  name 
thy  wish,  that  I  may  back  it." 

"The  fiend  forfend,"  said  the  grim  earl,  "that  a 
foreign  prince  should  sway  England's  king,  or  that  thegn 
and  earl  should  ask  other  backing  than  leal  service  and 
just  cause.  If  Edward  be  the  saint  men  call  him,  he 
will  loose  me  on  the  hell-wolf,  without  other  cry  than  his 
own  conscience." 

The  duke  turned  inquiringly  to  Rolf;  who,  thus  ap- 
pealed to,  said,  — 

?!  Siward  urges  my  uncle  to  espouse  the  cause  of  Mal- 
colm of  Cumbria  against  the  bloody  tyrant  Macbeth  ;  and 
but  for  the  disputes  with  the  traitor  Godwin,  the  king 
had  long  since  turned  his  arms  to  Scotland." 

"  Call  not  traitors,  young  man,"  said  the  earl,  in  high 
disdain,  "those  who,  with  all  their  faults  and  crimes, 
have  placed  thy  kinsman  on  the  throne  of  Canute." 

"Hush,  Rolf,"  said  the  duke,  observing  the  fierce 
young  Norman  about  to  reply  hastily.  "  But  methought, 
though  my  knowledge  of  English  troubles  is  but  scant, 
that  Siward  was  the  sworn  foe  to  Godwin  ? " 


HAROLD.  105 

"  Foe  to  him  in  his  power,  friend  to  him  in  his  wrongs," 
answered  Siward.  "And  if  England  needs  defenders 
when  I  and  Godwin  are  in  our  shrouds,  there  is  but  ori6 
man  worthy  of  the  days  of  old,  and  his  name  is  Harold, 
the  outlaw." 

William's  face  changed  remarkably,  despite  all  his 
dissimulation  ;  and,  with  a  slight  inclination  of  his  head, 
he  strode  on,  moody  and  irritated. 

"  This  Harold  !  this  Harold  ! "  he  muttered  to  himself, 
"  all  brave  men  speak  to  me  of  this  Harold  !  Even  my 
Norman  knights  name  him  with  reluctant  reverence,  and 
even  his  foes  do  him  honor;  —verily  his  shadow  is  cast 
from  exile  over  all  the  land." 

Thus  murmuring,  he  passed  the  throng  with  less  than 
his  wonted  affable  grace,  and  pushing  back  the  officers 
who  wished  to  precede  him,  entered,  without  ceremony, 
Edward's  private  chamber. 

The  king  was  alone,  but  talking  loudly  to  himself, 
gesticulating  vehemently,  and  altogether  so  changed 
from  his  ordinary  placid  apathy  of  mien,  that  William 
drew  back  in  alarm  and  awe.  Often  had  he  heard  indi- 
rectly, that  of  late  years  Edward  was  said  to  see  visions, 
and  be  rapt  from  himself  into  the  world  of  spirit  and 
shadow ;  and  such,  he  now  doubted  not,  was  the  strange 
paroxysm  of  which  he  was  made  the  witness.  Edward's 
eyes  were  fixed  on  him,  but  evidently  without  recognizing 
his  presence  ;  the  king's  hands  were  outstretched,  and  he 
cried  aloud  in  a  voice  of  sharp  anguish  — 

"  Sanguelac,  Sanguelac  !  —  the  Lake  of  Blood  !  —  the 

9* 


/ 


106  HAROLD. 

waves  spread,  the  waves  redden  !  Mother  of  mercy  — 
where  is  the  ark  ? — where  the  Ararat  ? — Fly — fly — this 
way  —  this "  and  he  caught  convulsive  hold  of  Wil- 
liam's arm.  "  No  !  there  the  corpses  are  piled  —  high 
and  higher — there  the  horse  of  the  Apocalypse  tramples 
the  dead  in  their  gore." 

In  great  horror,  William  took  the  king,  now  gasping 
on  his  breast,  in  his  arms,  and  laid  him  on  his  bed,  be- 
neath its  canopy  of  state,  all  blazoned  with  the  martlets 
and  cross  of  his  insignia.  Slowly  Edward  came  to  him- 
self, with  heavy  sighs  ;  and  when  at  length  he  sate  up 
and  looked  round,  it  was  with  evident  unconsciousness 
of  what  had  passed  across  his  haggard  and  wandering 
spirit,  for  he  said  with  his  usual  drowsy  calmness  — 

"  Thanks,  Guillaume,  bien  aime,  for  rousing  me  from 
unseasoned  sleep.     How  fares  it  with  thee?" 

"  Nay,  how  with  thee,  dear  friend  and  king  ?  thy  dreams 
have  been  troubled." 

11  Not  so  ;  I  slept  so  heavily,  methinks  I  could  not 
have  dreamed  at  all.  But  thou  art  clad  as  for  a  journey 
—  spur  on  thy  heel,  staff  in  thy  hand  ! " 

■"  Long  since,  0  dear  host,  I  sent  Odo  to  tell  thee  of 
the  ill  news  from  Normandy  that  compelled  me  to  de- 
part." 

"  I  remember  —  I  remember  me  now,"  said  Edward, 
passing  his  pale  womanly  fingers  over  his  forehead.  "  The 
heathen  rage  against  thee.  Ah  !  my  poor  brother,  a 
crown  is  an  awful  head-gear.     While  yet  time,  why  not 


HAROLD.  10T 

both  seek  some  quiet  convent,  and  put  away  these  earthly 
cares  ? " 

William  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  Nay,  holy  Ed- 
ward, from  all  I  have  seen  of  convents,  it  is  a  dream  to 
think  that  the  monk's  serge  hides  a  calmer  breast  than 
the  warrior's  mail,  or  the  king's  ermine.  Now  give  me 
thy  benison,  for  I  go." 

He  knelt  as  he  spoke,  and  Edward  bent  his  hands  over 
his  head,  and  blessed  him.  Then,  taking  from  his  own 
neck  a  collar  of  zimmes  (jewels  and  uncut  gems),  of  great 
price,  the  king  threw  it  over  the  broad  throat  bent  before 
him,  and  rising,  clapped  his  hands.  A  small  door  opened, 
giving  a  glimpse  of  the  oratory  within,  and  a  monk  ap- 
peared. 

"  Father,  have  my  behests  been  fulfilled  ? — hath  Hugo- 
line,  my  treasurer,  dispensed  the  gifts  that  I  spoke  of  ?  " 

"  Yerily  yes  ;  vault,  coffer,  and  garde-robe  —  stall  and 
meuse — are  well-nigh  drained,"  answered  the  monk,  with 
a  sour  look  at  the  Norman,  whose  native  avarice  gleamed 


in  his  dark  eyes  as  he  heard  the  answer. 

"  Thy  train  go  not  hence  empty-handed,"  said  Edward 
fondly.  "  Thy  father's  halls  sheltered  the  exile,  and  the 
exile  forgets  not  the  sole  pleasure  of  a  king — the  power 
to  requite.  We  may  never  meet  again,  William  —  age 
creeps  over  me,  and  who  will  succeed  to  my  thorny 
throne  ?  " 

William  longed  to  answer, —  to  tell  the  hope  that  con- 
sumed him,  —  to  remind  his  cousin  of  the  vague  promise 
in  their  youth,  that  the  Norman  count  should  succeed  to 


108  HAROLD. 

that  "  thorny  throne ;  "  but  the  presence  of  the  Saxon 
monk  repelled  him,  nor  was  there  in  Edward's  uneasy 
look  much  to  allure  him  on. 

"But  peace,"  continued  the  king,  "be  between  thine 
and  mine,  as  between  thee  and  me  !  ?! 

"Amen,"  said  the  duke,  "and  I  leave  thee  at  least  free 
from  the  proud  rebels  who  so  long  disturbed  thy  reign. 
This  house  of  Godwin,  thou  wilt  not  again  let  it  tower 
above  thy  palace  ?" 

"  ISTay,  the  future  is  with  God  and  his  saints,"  answered 
Edward  feebly.  "But  Godwin  is  old — older  than  I,  and 
bowed  by  many  storms." 

"Ay,  his  sons  are  more  to  be  dreaded,  and  kept  aloof 
—  mostly  Harold  !  " 

"  Harold, — he  was  ever  obedient,  he  alone  of  his  kith ; 
truly  my  soul  mourns  for  Harold,"  said  the  king,  sighing. 

"  The  serpent's  egg  hatches  but  the  serpent.  Keep 
thy  heel  on  it,"  said  William,  sternly. 

"  Thou  speakest  well,"  said  the  irresolute  prince,  who 
never  seemed  three  days  or  three  minutes  together  in  the 
same  mind.  "  Harold  is  in  Ireland — there  let  him  rest : 
better  for  all." 

"  For  all,"  said  the  duke  ;  "  so  the  saints  keep  thee, 
0  royal  saint !  " 

He  kissed  the  king's  hand,  and  strode  away  to  the  hall 
where  Odo,  Fitzosborne,  and  the  priest  Lanfranc  awaited 
him.  And  so  that  day,  half-way  towards  the  fair  town 
of  Dover,  rode  Duke  William,  and  by  the  side  of  his  roan 
barb  ambled  the  priest's  palfrey. 


HAROLD.  109 

Behind  came  his  gallant  train,  and  with  tumbrils  and 
sumpter-mules  laden  with  baggage,  and  enriched  by  Ed- 
ward's gifts ;  while  Welch  hawks,  and  steeds  of  great 
price  from  the  pastures  of  Surrey  and  the  plains  of  Cam- 
bridge and  York,  attested  no  less  acceptably  than  zimme, 
and  golden  chain,  and  broidered  robe,  the  munificence 
of  the  grateful  king.* 

As  they  journeyed  on,  and  the  fame  of  the  duke's 
coming  was  sent  abroad  by  the  bodes  or  messengers, 
despatched  to  prepare  the  towns  through  which  he  was 
to  pass  for  an  arrival  sooner  than  expected,  the  more 
high-born  youths  of  England,  especially  those  of  the 
party  counter  to  that  of  the  banished  Godwin,  came 
round  the  ways  to  gaze  upon  that  famous  chief,  who, 
from  the  age  of  fifteen,  had  wielded  the  most  redoubtable 
sword  of  Christendom.  And  those  youths  wore  the  Nor- 
man garb  :  and  in  the  towns,  Norman  counts  held  his 
stirrup  to  dismount,  and  Norman  hosts  spread  the  fasti- 
dious board ;  and  when,  at  the  eve  of  the  next  day,  Wil- 
liam saw  the  pennon  of  one  of  his  own  favorite  chiefs 
waving  in  the  van  of  armed  men,  that  sallied  forth  from 
the  towers  of  Dover  (the  key  of  the*  coast),  he  turned 
to  the  Lombard,  still  by  his  side,  and  said  :  — 
"  Is  not  England  part  of  Normandy  already  ?  " 
And  the  Lombard  answered  :  —  • 

"The  fruit  is  well-nigh  ripe,  and  the  first  breeze  will 

*  Wace. 
I.— 10 


110  "HAROLD. 

shake  it  to  thy  feet.  Put  not  out  thy  hand  too  soon. 
Let  the  wind  do  its  work." 

And  the  duke  made  reply, 

"As  thou  thinkest,  so  think  I.  And  there  is  but  one 
wind  in  the  halls  of  heaven  that  can  waft  the  fruit  to  the 
feet  of  another." 

"And  that  ?  "  asked  the  Lombard. 

"Is  the  wind  that  blows  from  the  shores  of  Ireland, 
when  it  fills  the  sails  of  Harold,  son  of  Godwin." 

"  Thou  fearest  that  man,  and  why  ?  "  asked  the  Lom- 
bard with  interest. 

And  the  duke  answered  :  — 

"  Because  in  the  breast  of  Harold  beats  the  heart  of 
England." 


BOOK   THIRD 


THE    HOUSE    OF    GODWIN 


CHAPTER   I. 

And  all  went  to  the  desire  of  Duke  William  the  Nor- 
man. With  one  hand  he  curbed  his  proud  vassals,  and 
drove  back  his  fierce  foes :  with  the  other,  he  led  to  the 
altar  Matilda,  the  maid  of  Flanders ;  and  all  happened 
as  Lanfranc  had  foretold.  William's  most  formidable 
enemy,  the  King  of  France,  ceased  to  conspire  against 
his  new  kinsman ;  and  the  neighboring  princes  said, 
"  The  Bastard  hath  become  one  of  us  since  he  placed  by 
his  side  the  descendant  of  Charlemagne. "  And  Mauger, 
Archbishop  of  Rouen,  excommunicated  the  duke  and 
his  bride,  and  the  ban  fell  idle  ;  for  Lanfranc  sent  from 
Rome  the  Pope's  dispensation  and  blessing,  conditionally 
only  that  bride  and  bridegroom  founded  each  a  church. 
And  Mauger  was  summoned  before  the  synod,  and  ac- 
cused of  unclerical  crimes ;  and  they  deposed  him  from 
his  state,  and  took  from  him  abbacies  and  sees.  And 
England,  every  day    waxed  more   and  more  Norman  ; 

*      (111) 


112  HAROLD. 

and  Edward  grew  more  feeble  and  infirm,  and  there 
seemed  not  a  barrier  between  the  Norman  duke  and  the 
English  throne,  when  suddenly  the  wind  blew  in  the  halls 
of  heaven,  and  filled  the  sails  of  Harold  the  Earl. 

And  his  ships  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  Severn.  And 
the  people  of  Somerset  and  Devon,  a  mixed  and  mainly 
a  Celtic  race,  who  bore  small  love  to  the  Saxons,  drew 
together  against  him,  and  he  put  them  to  flight.* 

Meanwhile,  Godwin  and  his  sons  Sweyn,  Tostig,  and 
Gurth,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  that  very  Flanders  from 
which  William  the  Duke  had  won  his  bride — (for  Tostig 
had  wed,  previously,  the  sister  of  Matilda,  the  rose  of 
Flanders ;  and  Count  Baldwin  had,  for  his  sons-in-law, 
both  Tostig  and  William), — meanwhile,  I  say,  these,  not 
holpen  by  the  Count  Baldwin,  but  helping  themselves, 
lay  at  Bruges,  ready  to  join  Harold  the  Earl.  And  Ed- 
ward, advised  of  this  from  the  anxious  Norman,  caused 
forty  ships  f  to  be  equipped,  and  put  them  under  com- 
mand of  Rolf,  Earl  of  Hereford.  The  ships  lay  at  Sand- 
wich in  wait  for  Godwin.  But  the  old  earl  got  from  them, 
and  landed  quietly  on  the  southern  coast.  And  the  fort 
of  Hastings  opened  to  his  coming  with  a  shout  from  its 
armed  men. 

All  the  boatmen,  all  the  mariners,  far  and  near, 
thronged  to  him,  with  sail  and  with  shield,  with  sword 
and  with  oar.  All  Kent  (the  foster-mother  of  the 
Saxons)  sent  forth  the  cry,  "  Life  or  death  with  Earl 

*  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle.  f  Some  writers  say  fifty 


HAROLD.  113 

Godwin. "  *  Fast  over  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land  went  the  bodes  f  and  riders  of  the  earl ;  and  hosts, 
with  one  voice,  answered  the  cry  of  the  children  of 
Horsa,  "Life  or  death  with  Earl  Godwin."  And  the 
ships  of  King  Edward,  in  dismay,  turned  flag  and  prow 
to  London,  and  the  fleet  of  Harold  sailed  on.  So  the 
old  earl  met  his  young  son  on  the  deck  of  a  war-ship, 
that  had  once  borne  the  Raven  of  the  Dane. 

Swelled  and  gathering  sailed  the  armament  of  the 
English  men.  Slow  up  the  Thames  it  sailed,  and  on 
either  shore  marched  tumultuous  the  swarming  multi- 
tudes. And  King  Edward  sent  after  more  help,  but  it 
came  up  very  late.  So  the  fleet  of  the  earl  nearly  faced 
the  Juliet  Keape  of  London,  and  abode  at  Southwark 
till  the  flood-tide  came  up.  When  he  had  mustered  his 
host,  then  came  the  flood-tide.  J 


CHAPTER   II. 

King  Edward  sat,  not  on  his  throne,  but  on  a  chair 
of  state,  in  the  presence-chamber  of  his  palace  of  West- 
minster. His  diadem,  with  the  three  zimmes  shaped  into 
a  triple  trefoil  §  on  his  brow,  his  sceptre  in  his  right  hand. 

*  Hovenden.  -j*  Bodes,  i.  e.  messengers. 

\  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle, 

\  Or  Fleur-de-lis,  which  seems  to  have  been  a  common  form  of 
ornament  with  the  Saxon  kings. 

10*  H 


114  HAROLD. 

His  royal  robe,  tight  to  the  throat,  with  a  broad  band 
of  gold,  flowed  to  his  feet ;  and  at  the  fold  gathered 
round  the  left  knee,  where  now  the  kings  of  England 
wear  the  badge  of  St.  George,  was  embroidered  a  simple 
cross.*  In  that  chamber  met  the  thegns  and  proceres 
of  his  realm :  but  not  they  alone.  No  national  Witan 
there  assembled,  but  a  council  of  war,  composed  at  least 
one-third  part  of  Normans  —  counts,  knights,  prelates, 
and  abbots  of  high  degree. 

And  King  Edward  looked  a  king !  The  habitual 
lethargic  meekness  had  vanished  from  his  face,  and  the 
large  crown  threw  a  shadow,  like  a  frown,  over  his  brow. 
His  spirit  seemed  to  have  risen  from  the  weight  it  took 
from  the  sluggish  blood  of  his  father,  Ethelred  the 
Unready,  and  to  have  remounted  to  the  brighter  and 
earlier  source  of  ancestral  heroes.  Worthy  in  that  hour 
he  seemed  to  boast  the  blood  and  wield  the  sceptre  of 
Athelstan  and  Alfred. 

Thus  spoke  the  king : 

"  Right  worthy  and  beloved,  my  ealdermen,  earls,  and 
thegns  of  England  ;  noble  and  familiar,  my  friends  and 
guests,  counts  and  chevaliers  of  Normandy,  my  mother's 
land ;  and  you,  our  spiritual  chiefs,  above  all  ties  of 
birth  and  country,  Christendom  your  common  appanage, 
and  from  Heaven  your  seignories  and  fiefs  —  hear  the 
words  of  Edward,  the  King  of  England,  under  grace  of 
the  Most  High.    The  rebels  are  in  our  river ;  open  yonder 

*  Bayeux  tapestry. 


HAROLD.  115 

.attice,  and  you  will  see*  the  piled  shields  glittering  from 
their  barks,  and  hear  the  hum  of  their  hosts.  Not  a 
bow  has  yet  been  drawn,  not  a  sword  left  its  sheath  ;  yet 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  are  our  fleets  of  forty 
sail  —  along  the  strand,  between  our  palace  and  the 
gates  of  London,  are  arrayed  our  armies.  And  this 
pause  because  Godwin  the  traitor  hath  demanded  truce, 
and  his  nuncius  waits  without.  Are  ye  willing  that  we 
should  hear  the  message  ?  or  would  ye  rather  that  we 
dismiss  the  messenger  unheard,  and  pass  at  once,  to  rank 
and  to  sail,  the  war-cry  of  a  Christian  king,  '  Holy  Crosse 
and  our  Lady  ! '  " 

The  king  ceased,  his  left  hand  grasping  firm  the 
leopard  head  carved  on  his  throne,  and  his  sceptre  un. 
trembling  in  his  lifted  hand. 

A  murmur  of  Notre  Dame,  Notre  Dame,  the  war-cry 
of  the  Normans,  was  heard  amongst  the  stranger-knights 
of  the  audience ;  but  haughty  and  arrogant  as  those 
strangers  were,  no  one  presumed  to  take  precedence,  in 
England's  danger,  of  men  English  born 

Slowly  then  rose  Aired,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  the 
worthiest  prelate  in  all  the  land.* 

"  Kingly  son,"  said  the  bishop,  "  evil  is  the  strife  be- 

*  The  York  Chronicle,  written  by  an  Englishman,  Stubbs,  gives 
this  eminent  person  an  excellent  character  as  peace-maker.  "  He 
could  make  the  warmest  friends  of  foes  the  most  hostile.  "  De 
inimicissimis,  amicissimos  faceret."  This  gentle  priest  had  yet  the 
courage  to  curse  the  Norman  Conqueror  in  the  midst  of  his  barons. 
That  scene  is  not  within  the  range  of  this  work,  but  it  is  very 
strikingly  told  in  the  Chronicle. 


116  HAROLD. 

tween  men  of  the  same  blood  and  lineage,  nor  justified 
but  by  extremes,  which  have  not  yet  been  made  clear  to 
us.  And  ill  would  it  sound  throughout  Eugland  were  it 
said  that  the  king's  council  gave,  perchance,  his  city  of 
London  to  sword  and  fire,  and  rent  his  land  in  twain, 
when  a  word  in  season  might  have  disbanded  yon  armies, 
and  given  to  your  throne  a  submissive  subject,  where  now 
you  are  menaced  by  a  formidable  rebel.  Wherefore,  I 
say,  admit  the  nuncius." 

Scarcely  had  Aired  resumed  his  seat,  before  Robert 
the  Norman  prelate  of  Canterbury  started  up  —  a  man, 
it  was  said,  of  worldly  learning  —  and  exclaimed  — 

"To  admit  the  messenger  is  to  approve  the  treason 
I  do  beseech  the  king  to  consult  only  his  own  royal  heart 
and  royal  honor.  Reflect — each  moment  of  delay  swells 
the  rebel  hosts — strengthens  their  cause  ;  of  each  moment 
they  avail  themselves,  to  allure  to  their  side  the  misguided 
citizens.  Delay  but  proves  our  own  weakness ;  a  king's 
name  is  a  tower  of  strength,  but  only  when  fortified  by  a 
king's  authority.  Give  the  signal  for  —  war  I  call  it  not 
—  no  —  for  chastisement  and  justice." 

"As  speaks  my  brother  of  Canterbury,  speak  I,"  said 
William,  Bishop  of  London,  another  Norman. 

But  then  there  rose  up  a  form  at  whose  rising  all 
murmurs  were  hushed. 

Grey  and  vast,  as  some  image  of  a  gone  and  mightier 
age,  towered  over  all  Siward,  the  son  of  Beorn,  the  great 
Earl  of  Northumbria. 

"  We  have  nought  to  do  with  the  Normans.     Were 


HAROLD.  lit 

they  on  the  river,  and  our  countrymen,  Dane  or  Saxon, 
alone  in  this  hall,  small  doubt  of  the  King's  choice,  and 
niddering  were  the  man  who  spoke  of  peace  ;  but  when 
Norman  advises  the  dwellers  of  England  to  go  forth  and 
slay  each  other,  no  sword  of  mine  shall  be  drawn  at  his 
hest.  Who  shall  say  that  Siward  of  the  Strong  Arm, 
the  grandson  of  the  Berserker,  ever  turned  from  a  foe  ? 
The  foe,  son  of  Ethelred,  sits  in  these  halls ;  I  fight  thy 
battles  when  I  say  Nay  to  the  Norman !  Brothers-in- 
arms of  the  kindred  race  and  common  tongue,  Dane  and 
Saxon  long  intermingled,  proud  alike  of  Canute  the 
glorious  and  Alfred  the  wise,  ye  will  hear  the  man  whom 
Godwin,  our  countryman,  sends  to  us ;  he  at  least  will 
speak  our  tongue,  and  he  knows  our  laws.  If  the  demand 
he  delivers  be  just,  such  as  a  king  should  grant,  and  our 
Witan  should  hear,  woe  to  him  who  refuses ;  if  unjust  be 
the  demand,  shame  to  him  who  accedes.  Warrior  sends 
to  warrior,  countryman  to  countryman  ;  hear  we  as  coun- 
trymen, and  judge  as  warriors.     I  have  said." 

The  utmost  excitement  and  agitation  followed  the 
speech  of  Siward, — unanimous  applause  from  the  Saxons, 
even  those  who  in  times  of  peace  were  most  under  the 
Norman  contagion  ;  but  no  words  can  paint  the  wrath 
and  scorn  of  the  Normans.  They  spoke  loud  and  many 
at  a  time ;  the  greatest  disorder  prevailed.  But  the 
majority  being  English,  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to 
the  decision,  and  Edward,  to  whom  the  emergence  gave 
both  a  dignity  and  presence  of  mind  rare  to  him,  resolved 
1,0  terminate  the  dispute  at  once.     He  stretched  forth  his 


1.18  HAROLD. 

sceptre,  and  motioning  to  his  chamberlain,  bade  him  in- 
troduce the  nuncius.* 

A  blank  disappointment,  not  unmixed  with  apprehen- 
sive terror,  succeeded  the  turbulent  excitement  of  the 
Normans ;  for  well  they  knew  that  the  consequences,  if 
not  condition,  of  negotiations,  would  be  their  own  downfall 
and  banishment  at  the  least;  —  happy,  it  might  be,  to 
escape  massacre  at  the  hands  of  the  exasperated  multi- 
tude. 

The  door  at  the  end  of  the  room  opened,  and  the  nun- 
cius appeared.  He  was  a  sturdy,  broad-shouldered  man, 
of  middle  age,  and  in  the  long  loose  garb  originally 
national  with  the  Saxon,  though  then  little  in  vogue  ; 
his  beard  thick  and  fair,  his  eyes  grey  and  calm — a  chief 
of  Kent,  where  all  the  prejudices  of  his  race  were  strong- 
est, and  whose  yeomanry  claimed  in  war  the  hereditary 
right  to  be  placed  in  the  front  of  battle. 

He  made  his  manly  but  deferential  salutation  to  the 
august  council  as  he  approached ;  and  pausing  midway 
between  the  throne  and  door,  he  fell  on  his  knees  with 
out  thought  of  shame,  for  the  king  to  whom  he  knelt  was 
the  descendant  of  Woden,  and  the  heir  of  Hengist.  At 
a  sign  and  a  brief  word  from  the  king,  still  on  his  kneesf 
Yebba,  the  Kentman,  spoke. 

M  To  Edward,  son  of  Ethelred,  his  most  gracious  king 
and  lord,  Godwin,  son  of  Wolnoth,  sends   faithful  and 

*  Heralds,  though  probably  the  word  is  Saxon,  were  not  then 
known  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  word.  The  name  given 
to  the  messenger  or  envoy  who  fulfilled  that  office  was  bode  or 
nuncius. 


HAROLD.  119 

humble  greeting,  by  Yebba,  the  thegn-born.  He  prays 
the  king  to  hear  him  in  kindness,  and  judge  of  him  with 
mercy.  Not  against  the  king  comes  he  hither  with  ship3 
and  arms ;  but  against  those  only  who  would  stand  be- 
tween the  king's  heart  and  the  subject's:  those  who  have 
divided  a  house  against  itself,  and  parted  son  and  father, 
man  and  wife. — " 

At  those  last  words  Edward's  sceptre  trembled  in  his 
hand,  and  his  face  grew  almost  stern. 

"  Of  the  king,  Godwin  but  prays  with  all  submiss  and 
earnest  prayer,  to  reverse  the  unrighteous  outlawry  against 
him  and  his  ;  to  restore  to  him  and  his  sons  their  just 
possessions  and  well-won  honors  ;  and,  more  than  all,  to 
replace  them  where  they  have  sought  by  loving  service 
not  unworthily  to  stand,  in  the  grace  of  their  born  lord, 
and  in  the  van  of  those  who  would  uphold  the  laws  and 
liberties  of  England.  This  done — the  ships  sail  back  to 
their  haven  ;  the  thegn  seeks  his  homestead,  and  the  ceorl 
returns  to  the  plough  ;  for  with  Godwin  are  no  strangers : 
and  his  force  is  but  the  love  of  his  countrymen." 

"  Hast  thou  said  ?  "  quoth  the  king. 

u  I  have  said." 

"Retire,  and  await  our  answer." 

The  Thegn  of  Kent  was  then  led  back  into  an  ante- 
room, in  which,  armed  from  head  to  heel  in  ring-mail, 
were  several  Normans  whose  youth  or  station  did  not 
admit  them  into  the  council,  but  still  of  no  mean  interest 
in  the  discussion,  from  the  lands  and  possessions  they  had 
already  contrived  to  gripe  out  of  the  demesnes  of  the 


120  HAROLD. 

exiles ;  —  ourning  for  battle  and  eager  for  the  word. 
Amongst  these  was  Mallet  de  Graville. 

The  Norman  valor  of  this  young  knight  was,  as  we 
have  seen,  guided  by  Norman  intelligence ;  and  he  had 
not  disdained,  since  William's  departure,  to  study  the 
tongue  of  the  country  in  which  he  hoped  to  exchange  his 
mortgaged  tower  on  the  Seine,  for  some  fair  barony  on 
the  Humber  or  the  Thames. 

While  the  rest  of  his  proud  countrymen  stood  aloof, 
with  eyes  of  silent  scorn,  from  the  homely  nuncius,  Mallet 
approached  him  with  courteous  bearing,  tnd  said  in 
Saxon  :  — 

"  May  I  crave  to  know  the  issue  of  thy  message  from 
the  reb — that  is,  from  the  doughty  earl  ?  " 

"  I  wait  to  learn  it,"  said  Yebba,  bluffly. 

"  They  heard  thee  throughout,  then  ? " 

"Throughout." 

"Friendly  sir,"  said  the  Sire  de  Graville,  seeking  to 
subdue  the  tone  of  irony  habitual  to  him,  and  acquired, 
perhaps,  from  his  maternal  ancestry,  the  Franks. 
"  Friendly  and  peace-making  sir,  dare  I  so  far  venture  to 
intrude  on  the  secrets  of  thy  mission  as  to  ask  if  Godwin 
demands,  among  other  reasonable  items,  the  head  of  thy 
humble  servant  —  not  by  name,  indeed,  for  my  name  is  as 
yet  unknown  to  him  —  but  as  one  of  the  unhappy  class 
called  Normans  ?" 

"Had  Earl  Godwin,"  returned  the  nuncius,  "thought 
fit  to  treat  for  peace  by  asking  vengeance,  he  would  have 
chosen  other  spokesman.     The  earl  asks  but  his  own  ; 


HAROLD.  121 

and  thy  head  is  not,  I  trow,  a  part  of  his  goods  and 
chattels." 

"  This  is  comforting,"  said  Mallet.  "  Marry,  I  thank 
thee,  Sir  Saxon  ;  and  thou  speakest  like  a  brave  man  and 
an  honest.  And  if  we  fall  to  blows,  as  I  suspect  we 
shall,  I  should  deem  it  a  favor  of  our  Lady  the  Virgin 
if  she  send  thee  across  my  way.  Next  to  a  fair  friend,  I 
love  a  bold  foe." 

Yebba  smiled,  for  he  liked  the  sentiment,  and  the  tone 
and  air  of  the  young  knight  pleased  his  rough  mind, 
despite  his  prejudices  against  the  stranger. 

Encouraged  by  the  smile,  Mallet  seated  himself  on  the 
corner  of  the  long  table  that  skirted  the  room,  and  with 
a  debonnair  gesture,  invited  Yebba  to  do  the  same  ;  then 
looking  at  him  gravely,  he  resumed  — 

"So  frank  and  courteous  thou  art,  Sir  Envoy,  that  I 
yet  intrude  on  thee  my  ignorant  and  curious  questions." 

"Speak  out,  Norman." 

11  How  comes  it,  then,  that  you  English  so  love  this 
Earl  Godwin  ?  —  Still  more,  why  think  you  it  right  and 
proper  that  King  Edward  should  love  him  too  ?  It  is  a 
question  I  have  often  asked,  and  to  which  I  am  not  likely 
in  these  halls  to  get  answer  satisfactory.  If  I  know 
aught  of  your  troublous  history,  this  same  earl  has 
changed  sides  oft  eno' ;  first  for  the  Saxon,  then  for 
Canute  the  Dane  —  Canute  dies,  and  your  friend  takes 
up  arms  for  the  Saxon  again.  He  yields  to  the  advice 
of  your  Witan,  and  sides  with  Hardicanute  and  Harold, 
the  Danes  —  a  letter,  nathless,  is  written  as  from  Emma, 

I.  — 11 


122  HAROLD. 

the  mother  to  the  young  Saxon  princes,  Edward  and 
Alfred,  inviting  them  over  to  England,  and  promising 
aid  ;  the  saints  protect  Edward,  who  continues  to  say 
aves  in  Normandy  —  Alfred  comes  over,  Earl  Godwin 
meets  him,  and  unless  belied,  does  him  homage,  and 
swears  to  him  faith.  Nay,  listen  yet.  This  Godwin, 
whom  ye  love  so,  then  leads  Alfred  and  his  train  to  tho 
ville  of  Guildford,  I  think  ye  call  it, — fair  quarters  enow. 
At  the  dead  of  the  night  rush  in  King  Harold's  men, 
seize  prince  and  follower,  six  hundred  men  in  all;  and 
next  morning,  saving  only  every  tenth  man,  they  are 
tortured  and  put  to  death.  The  prince  is  borne  off  to 
London,  and  shortly  afterwards  his  eyes  are  torn  out  in 
the  Islet  of  Ely,  and  he  dies  of  the  anguish  !  That  ye 
should  love  Earl  Godwin  withal  may  be  strange,  but  yet 
possible.  But  is  it  possible,  cher  Envoy,  for  the  king  to 
love  the  man  who  thus  betrayed  his  brother  to  the 
shambles?  " 

"  All  this  is  a  Norman  fable,"  said  the  Thegn  of  Kent, 
with  a  disturbed  visage  ;  "  and  Godwin  cleared  himself 
on  oath  of  all  share  in  the  foul  murder  of  Alfred." 

"  The  oath,  I  have  heard,  was  backed,"  said  the  knight 
drvly,  "by  a  present  to  Hardicanute,  who,  after  the  death 
of  King  Harold,  resolved  to  avenge  the  black  butchery ; 
a  present,  I  say,  of  a  gilt  ship  manned  by  four-score 
warriors,  with  gold-hilted  swords,  and  gilt  helms. — But 
let  this  pass." 

"Let  it  pass,"  echoed  Yebba,  with  a  sigh.  "Bloody 
were  tfiose  times,  and  unholy  their  secrets." 


HAROLD.  123 

"Yet,  answer  me  still,  why  love  you  Earl  Godwin? 
He  hath  changed  sides  from  party  to  party,  and  in  each 
change  won  lordships  and  lands.  He  is  ambitious  and 
grasping,  ye  all  allow ;  for  the  ballads  sung  in  your 
streets  liken  him  to  the  thorn  and  the  bramble,  at  which 
the  sheep  leaves  his  wool.  He  is  haughty  and  overbear- 
ing. Tell  me,  0  Saxon,  frank  Saxon,  why  you  love 
Godwin  the  Earl?  Fain  would  I  know;  for,  please  the 
saints  (and  you  and  your  earl  so  permitting),  I  mean  to 
live  and  die  in  this  merrie  England ;  and  it  would  be 
pleasant  to  learn  that  I  have  but  to  do  as  Earl  Godwin, 
in  order  to  win  love  from  the  English." 

The  stout  Yebba  looked  perplexed  ;  but  after  stroking 
his  beard  thoughtfully,  he  answered  thus  — 

"  Though  of  Kent,  and  therefore  in  his  earldom,  I  am 
not  one  of  Godwin's  especial  party ;  for  that  reason  was 
I  chosen  his  bode.  Those  who  are  under  him  doubtless 
love  a  chief  liberal  to  give  and  strong  to  protect.  The 
old  age  of  a  great  leader  gathers  reverence,  as  an  oak 
gathers  moss.  But  to  me,  and  those  like  me,  living 
peaceful  at  home,  shunning  courts,  and  tempting  not 
broils,  Godwin  the  man  is  not  dear  —  it  is  Godwin  the 
thing."9 

"  Though  I  do  my  best  to  know  your  language,"  said 
the  knight,  "ye  have  phrases  that  might  puzzle  King 
Solomon.    What  meanest  thou  by  '  Godwin  the  thing  ?  '  n 

"  That  which  to  us  Godwin  only  seems  to  uphold.  We 
love  justice  ;  whatever  his  offences,  Godwin  was  banished 
unjustly.     We  love  our  laws;  Godwin  was  dishonored 


124  HAROLD. 

by  maintaining  them.  We  love  England,  and  are  devoured 
by  strangers;  Godwin's  cause  is  England's,  and  — 
stranger,  forgive  me  for  not  concluding." 

Then,  examining  the  young  Norman  with  a  look  of 
rough  compassion,  he  laid  his  large  hand  tipon  the 
knight's  shoulder  and  whispered, — 

"Take  my  advice  —  and  fly.'7 

"Fly!"  said  De  Graville,  reddening.  "Is  it  to  fly, 
think  you,  that  I  have  put  on  my  mail,  and  girded  my 
sword  ?  " 

"  Yain  —  vain  1  Wasps  are  fierce,  but  the  swarm  is 
doomed  when  the  straw  is  kindled.  I  tell  you  this  —  fly 
in  time,  and  you  are  safe  ;  but  let  the  king  be  so  mis- 
guided as  to  count  on  arms,  and  strive  against  yon 
multitude,  and  verily  before  nightfall  not  one  Norman 
will  be  found  alive  within  ten  miles  of  the  city.  Look  to 
it,  youth!  Perhaps  thou  hast  a  mother  —  let  her  not 
mourn  a  son  !  " 

Before  the  Norman  could  shape  into  Saxon  sufficiently 
polite  and  courtly  his  profound  and  indignant  disdain  of 
the  counsel,  his  sense  of  the  impertinence  with  which  his 
shoulder  had  been  profaned,  and  his  mother's  son  had 
been' warned,  the  nuncius  was  again  summoned  into  the 
presence-chamber.  Nor  did  he  return  into  the  ante-room, 
but  conducted  forthwith  from  the  council  —  his  brief 
answer  received  —  to  the  stairs  of  the  palace,  he  reached 
the  boat  in  which  he  had  come,  and  was  rowed  back  to 
the  ship  that  held  the  earl  and  his  sons. 

Now  this  was  the  manoeuvre  of  Godwin's  array.     His 


HAROLD.  125 

vessels  having  passed  London  Bridge,  had  rested  awhile 
on  the  banks  of  the  Southward  suburb  (South-weorde) 
—  since  called  South wark  —  and  the  king's*  ships  lay  to 
the  north;  but  the  fleet  of  the  earl's,  after  a  brief  halt, 
veered  majestically  round,  and  coming  close  to  the  palace 
of  Westminster,  inclined  northward,  as  if  to  hem  the 
king's  ships.  Meanwhile  the  land  forces  drew  up  close 
to  the  Strand,  almost  within  bow-shot  of  the  king's 
troops,  that  kept  the  ground  inland  ;  thus  Yebba  saw 
before  him,  so  near  as  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from 
each  other,  on  the  river  the  rival  fleets,  on  the  shore  the 
rival  armaments. 

High  above  all  the  vessels  towered  the  majestic  bark, 
or  sesca,  that  had  borne  Harold  from  the  Irish  shores. 
Its  fashion  was  that  of  the  ancient  sea-kings,  to  one  of 
whom  it  had  belonged.  Its  curved  and  mighty  prow, 
richly  gilded,  stood  out  far  above  the  waves :  the  prow, 
the  head  of  the  sea-snake ;  the  stern  its  spire ;  head  and 
spire  alike  glittering  in  the  sun. 

The  boat  drew  up  to  the  lofty  side  of  the  vessel,  a 
ladder  was  lowered,  the  nuncius  ascended  lightly  and 
stood  on  deck.  At  the  farther  end  grouped  the  sailors, 
few  in  number,  and  at  respectful  distance  from  the  earl 
and  his  sous. 

Godwin  himself  was  but  half-armed.  His  head  was 
bare,  nor  had  he  other  weapon  of  offence  than  the  gilt 
battle-axe  of  the  Danes  —  weapon  as  much  of  office  as 
of  war ;  but  his  broad  breast  was  covered  with  the  ring- 
mail  of  the  time.  His  stature  was  lower  than  that  of 
11* 


126  HAROLD. 

any  of  his  sons  ;  r<or  did  his  form  exhibit  greater  physi- 
cal strength  than  that  of  a  man,  well-shaped,  robust,  and 
deep  of  cheSt,  who  still  preserved  in  age  the  pith  and 
sinew  of  mature  manhood.  Neither,  indeed,  did  legend 
or  fame  ascribe  to  that  eminent  personage  those  romantic 
achievements,  those  feats  of  purely  animal  prowess,  which 
distinguished  his  rival  Siward.  Brave  he  was,  but  brave 
as  a  leader ;  those  faculties  in  which  he  appears  to  have 
excelled  all  his  contemporaries,  were  more  analogous  to 
the  requisites  of  success  in  civilized  times,  than  those 
which  won  renown  of  old.  And  perhaps  England  was 
the  only  country  then  in  Europe  which  could  have  given 
to  those  faculties  their  fitting  career.  He  possessed  essen- 
tially the  arts  of  party ;  he  knew  how  to  deal  with  vast 
masses  of  mankind  ;  he  could  carry  along  with  its  inter- 
ests the  fervid  heart  of  the  multitude ;  he  had  in  the 
highest  degree  that  gift,  useless  in  most  other  lands  —  in 
all  lands  where  popular  assemblies  do  not  exist — the  gift 
of  popular  eloquence.  Ages  elapsed,  after  the  Norman 
conquest,  ere  eloquence  again  became  a  power  in  Eng- 
land.* 

But  like  all  men  renowned  for  eloquence,  he  went  with 
the  popular  feeling  of  his  times  ;  he  embodied  its  passions, 
its  prejudices  —  but  also  that  keen  sense  of  self-interest, 
which  is  the  invariable  characteristic  of  a  multitude.  He 
was  the  sense  of  the  commonalty  carried  to  its  highest 
degree.     Whatever  the  faults,  it  may  be  the  crimes,  of  a 

*  When  the  chronicler  praises  the  gift  of  speech,  he  uncon- 
sciously proves  the  existence  of  constitutional  freedom. 


HAROLD.  127 

career  singularly  prosperous  and  splendid,  amidst  events 
the  darkest  and  most  terrible,  —  shining  with  a  steady 
light  across  the  thunder-clouds,  —  he  was  naver  accused 
of  cruelty  or  outrage  to  the  mass  of  the  people.  Eng- 
lish, emphatically,  the  English  deemed  him  ;  and  this  not 
the  less  that  in  his  youth  he  had  sided  with  Canute,  and 
owed  his  fortunes  to  that  king ;  for  so  intermixed  were 
Danes  and  Saxons  in  England,  that  the  agreement  which 
had  given  to  Canute  one  half  the  kingdom,  had  been 
received  with  general  applause  :  and  the  earlier  severities 
of  that  great  prince  had  been  so  redeemed  in  his  later 
years  by  wisdom  and  mildness  —  so,  even  in  the  worst 
period  of  his  reign,  relieved  by  extraordinary  personal 
affability,  and  so  lost  now  in  men's  memories  by  pride  in 
his  power  and  fame, —  that  Canute  had  left  behind  him  a 
beloved  and  honored  name,*  and  Godwin  was  the  more 
esteemed  as  the  chosen  counsellor  of  that  popular  prince* 
At  his  death,  Godwin  was  known  to  have  wished,  and 
even  armed,  for  the  restoration  of  the  Saxon  line  ;  and 
only  yielded  to  the  determination  of  the  Witan,  no  doubt 
acted  upon  by  the  popular  opinion.  Of  one  dark  crime 
he  was  suspected ;  and,  despite  his  oath  to  the  contrary, 
and  the  formal  acquittal  of  the  national  council,  doubt 
of  his  guilt  rested  then,  as  it  rests  still,  upon  his  name  ; 

*  Recent  Danish  historians  have  in  vain  endeavored  to  detract 
from  the  reputation  of  Canute  as  an  English  monarch.  The  Danes 
are,  doubtless,  the  best  authorities  for  his  character  in  Denmark. 
But  our  own  English  authorities  are  sufficiently  decisive  as  to  the 
personal  popularity  of  Canute  in  this  country,  and  the  affection 
entertained  for  his  laws. 


128  HAROLD. 

viz.  tne  perfidious  surrender  of  Alfred,  Edward's  mur- 
dered brother. 

But  time  had  passed  over  the  dismal  tragedy ;  and 
there  was  an  instinctive  and  prophetic  feeling  throughout 
the  English  nation,  that  with  the  House  of  Godwin  was 
identified  the  cause  of  the  English  people.  Everything 
in  this  man's  aspect  served  to  plead  in  his  favor.  His 
ample  brows  were  calm  with  benignity  and  thought ;  his 
large,  dark-blue  eyes  were  serene  and  mild,  though  their 
expression,  when  examined,  was  close  and  inscrutable. 
His  mien  was  singularly  noble,  but  wholly  without  for- 
mality or  affected  state  ;  and  though  haughtiness  and 
arrogance  were  largely  attributed  to  him,  they  could  be 
found  only  in  his  deeds,  not  manner — plain,  familiar, 
kindly  to  all  men,  his  heart  seemed  as  open  to  the  service 
of  his  countrymen  as  his  hospitable  door  to  their  wants. 

Behind  him  stood  the  stateliest  group  of  sons  that  ever 
filled  with  pride  a  father's  eye.  Each  strikingly  distin- 
guished from  the  other,  all  remarkable  for  beauty  of 
countenance  and  strength  of  frame. 

Sweyn,  the  eldest,*  had  the  dark  hues  of  his  mother, 

*  Some  of  our  historians  erroneously  represent  Harold  as  the 
eliest  son.  But  Florence,  the  best  authority  we  have,  in  the  silence 
of  the  Saxon  Chronicle,  as  well  as  Knyghton,  distinctly  states  Sweyn 
to  be  the  eldest;  Harold  was  the  second,  and  Tostig  was  the  third. 
Sweyn's  seniority  seems  corroborated  by  the  greater  importance 
of  his  earldom.  The  Norman  chroniclers,  in  their  spite  to  Harold, 
wish  to  make  him  junior  to  Tostig  —  for  the  reasons  evident  at  the 
close  of  this  work.  And  the  Norwegian  chronicler,  Snorro  Sturle- 
son,  says  that  Harold  was  the  youngest  of  all  the  sons;  so  little 
was  really  known,  or  cared  to  be  accurately  known  of  that  great 
house  which  so  nearly  founded  a  new  dynasty  of  English  kings. 


HAROLD.  129 

the  Dane  :  a  wild  and  mournful  majesty  sat  upon  features 
aquiline  and  regular,  but  wasted  by  grief  or  passion  « 
raven  locks,  glossy  even  in  neglect,  fell  half  over  eyes 
hollow  in  their  sockets,  but  bright,  though  with  troubled 
fire.  Over  his  shoulder  he  wore  his  mighty  axe.  His 
form,  spare,  but  of  immense  power,  was  sheathed  in  mail, 
and  he  leant  on  his  great  pointed  Danish  shield.  At  his 
feet  sat  his  young  son  Haco,  a  boy  with  a  countenance 
preternaturally  thoughtful  for  his  years,  which  were  yet 
those  of  childhood. 

Next  to  him  stood  the  most  dreaded  and  ruthless  of 
the  sons  of  Godwin  — he,  fated  to  become  to  the  Saxon 
what  Julian  was  to  the  Goth.  With  his  arms  folded  on 
his  breast  stood  Tostig;  his  face  was  beautiful  as  a 
Greek's,  in  all  save  the  forehead,  which  was  low  and 
lowering.  Sleek  and  trim  were  his  bright  chesnut  locks  ; 
and  his  arms  were  damascened  with  silver,  for  he  was 
one  who  loved  the  pomp  and  luxury  of  war. 

Wolnoth,  the  mother's  favorite,  seemed  yet  in  the  first 
flower  of  youth,  but  he  alone  of  all  the  sons  had  some- 
thing irresolute  and  effeminate  in  his  aspect  and  bearing ; 
his  form,  though  tall,  had  not  yet  come  to  its  full  height 
and  strength;  and,  as  if  the  weight  of  mail  were  unusual 
to  him,  he  leant  with  both  hands  upon  the  wood  of  his 
long  spear.  Leofwine,  who  stood  next  to  Wolnoth,  con- 
trasted him  notably  ;  his  sunny  locks  wreathed  carelessly 
over  a  white  unclouded  brow,  and  the  silken  hair  on  the 
upper  lip  quivered  over  arch  lips,  smiling,  even  in  that 
serious  hour. 

11*  i 


130  HAROLD. 

At  Godwin's  right  hand,  but  not  immediately  near 
him,  stood  the  last  of  the  group,  Gurth  and  Harold. 
Gurth  had  passed  his  arm  over  the  shoulder  of  his  bro- 
ther, and  not  watching  the  nuncius  while  he  spoke, 
watched  only  the  effect  his  words  produced  on  the  face 
of  Harold.  For  Gurth  loved  Harold  as  Jonathan  loved 
David.  And  Harold  was  the  only  one  of  the  group  not 
armed ;  and  had  a  veteran  skilled  in  war  been  asked  who 
of  that  group  was  born  to  lead  armed  men,  he  would 
have  pointed  to  the  man  unarmed. 

"So  what  says  the  king?"  asked  Earl  Godwin. 

"  This  :  he  refuses  to  restore  thee  and  thy  sons,  or  to 
hear  thee,  till  thou  hast  disbanded  thine  army,  dismissed 
thy  ships,  and  consented  to  clear  thyself  and  thy  house 
before  the  Witanagemot." 

A  fierce  laugh  broke  from  Tostig ;  Sweyn's  mournful 
brow  grew  darker  ;  Leofwine  placed  his  right  hand  on 
his  ateghar ;  Wolnoth  rose  erect ;  Gurth  kept  his  eyes 
on  Harold,  and  Harold's  face  was  unmoved. 

"  The  king  received  thee  in  his  council  of  war,"  said 
Godwin,  thoughtfully,  u  and  doubtless  the  Normans  were 
there.     Who  were  the  Englishmen  most  of  mark?" 

"  Siward  of  Northumbria,  thy  foe." 

"My  sons,"  said  the  earl,  turning  to  his  children,  and 
breathing  loud  as  if  a  load  were  off  his  heart;  "there 
will  be  no  need  of  axe  or  armor  to-day.  Harold  alone 
was  wise,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  linen  tunic  of  the  son 
thus  cited. 

"What  mean  you,  Sir  Father?"  said  Tostig  im- 
periously.    "  Think  you  to " 


HAROLD.  131 

"Peace,  son,  peace;"  said  Godwin,  without  asperity 
but  with  conscious  command.  "Return,  brave  and  dear 
friend,"  he  said  to  Yebba,  "find  out  Siward  the  earl; 
tell  him  that  I,  Godwin,  his  foe  in  the  old  time,  place 
honor  and  life  in  his  hands,  and  what  he  counsels  that 
will  we  do.  —  Go." 

The  Kentman  nodded,  and  regained  his  boat.  Then 
spoke  Harold. 

"  Father,  yonder  are  the  forces  of  Edward  ;  as  yet 
without  leaders,  since  the  chiefs  must  be  still  in  the  halls 
of  the  king.  Some  fiery  Norman  amongst  them  may 
provoke  an  encounter  ;  and  this  city  of  London  is  not 
won,  as  it  behoves  us  to  win  it,  if  one  drop  of  English 
blood  dye  the  sword  of  one  Englishman.  Wherefore, 
with  your  leave,  I  will  take  boat,  and  land.  And  unless 
I  have  lost  in  my  absence  all  right  lere  in  the  hearts  of 
our  countrymen,  at  the  first  shout  from  our  troops  which 
proclaims  that  Harold,  son  of  Godwin,  is  on  the  soil  of 
our  fathers,  half  yon  array  of  spears  and  helms  pass  a'r 
once  to  our  side." 

"And  if  not,  my  vain  brother?"  said  Tostig,  gnawing 
his  lip  with  envy. 

"And  if  not,  I  will  ride  alone  into  the  midst  of  them, 
and  ask  what  Englishmen  are  there  who  will  aim  shaft 
or  spear  at  this  breast,  never  mailed  against  England !  l\ 

Godwin  placed  his  hand  on  Harold's  head,  and  the 
tears  came  to  those  close  cold  eyes. 

"  Thou  knowest  by  nature  what  I  have  learned  by  art. 
Go,  and  prosper.     Be  it  as  thou  wilt." 


132  HAROLD. 

"  He  takes  thy  post,  Sweyn— thou  art  the  elder,"  said 
Tostig,  to  the  wild  form  by  his  side. 

"  There  is  guilt  on  my  soul,  and  woe  in  my  heart," 
answered  Sweyn,  moodily.  "  Shall  Esau  lose  his  birth- 
right, and  Cain  retain  it?"  So  saying,  he. withdrew, 
and,  reclining  against  the  stern  of  the  vessel,  leant  his 
face  upon  the  edge  of  his  shield. 

Harold  watched  him  with  deep  compassion  in  his  eyes, 
passed  to  his  side  with  a  quick  step,  pressed  his  hand, 
and  whispered,  "  Peace  to  the  past,  0  my  brother  I " 
The  boy  Haco,  who  had  noiselessly  followed  his  father, 
lifted  his  sombre,  serious  looks  to  Harold  as  he  thus 
spoke  ;  and  when  Harold  turned  away,  he  said  to  Sweyn, 
timidly,  "He,  at  least,  is  ever  good  to  thee  and  to  me," 

"And  thou,  when  I  am  no  more,  shalt  cling  to  him  as 
thy  father,  Haco,"  answered  Sweyn,  tenderly  smoothing 
back  the  child's  dark  locks. 

The  boy  shivered  ;  and,  bending  his  head,  murmured 
to  himself,  "  When  thou  art  no  more  !  No  more  !  Has 
the  Yala  doomed  him,  too  ?  Father  and  son,  both  ?" 
Meanwhile,  Harold  had  entered  the  boat  lowered  from 
the  sides  of  the  aesca  to  receive  him  ;  and  Gurth,  looking 
appealingly  to  his  father,  and  seeing  no  sign  of  dissent, 
sprang  down  after  the  young  earl,  and  seated  himself  by 
his  side. 

Godwin  followed  the  boat  with  musing  eyes. 
"Small  need,"  said  he  aloud,  but  to  himself,  "to  be- 
lieve in  soothsayers,  or  to  credit  Hilda  the  saga,  when 
sne  prophesied,  ere  we  left  our  shores,  that  Harold " 


HAROLD.  133 

He  stopped  short,  for  Tostig's  wrathful  exclamation  broke 
on  his  reverie. 

"Father,  father!  My  blood  surges  in  my  ears,  and 
boils  in  my  heart,  when  I  hear  thee  name  the  prophecies 
of  Hilda  in  favor  of  thy  darling.  Dissension  and  strife 
in  our  house  have  they  wrought  already ;  and  if  the  fcuda 
between  Harold  and  me  have  sown  grey  in  thy  locks, 
thank  thyself  when,  flushed  with  vain  soothsayings  for 
thy  favored  Harold,  thou  saidst,  in  the  hour  of  our  first 
childish  broil,  '  Strive  not  with  Harold  ;  for  his  brothers 
will  be  his  men.'  " 

11  Falsify  the  prediction, "  said  Godwin  calmly;  "wise 
men  may  always  make  their  own  future,  and  seize  their 
own  fates.  Prudence,  patience,  labor,  valor;  these  are 
the  stars  that  rule  the  career  of  mortals." 

Tostig  made  no  answer ;  for  the  splash  of  oars  was 
near,  and  two  ships,  containing  the  principal  chiefs  that 
had  joined  Godwin's  cause,  came  alongside  the  Runic 
sesca  to  hear  the  result  of  the  message  sent  to  the  king. 
Tosting  sprang  to  the  vessel's  side,  and  exclaimed,  "  The 
king,  girt  by  his  false  counsellors,  will  hear  us  not,  and 
arms  must  decide  between  us." 

"Hold,  hold  !  malignant,  unhappy  boy  1"  cried  God- 
win, between  his  grinded  teeth,  as  a  shout  of  indignant, 
yet  joyous  ferocity,  broke  from  the  crowded  ships  thus 
hailed.  "  The  curse  of  all  time  be  on  him-who  draws  the 
first  native  blood  in  sight  of  the  altars  and  hearths  of 
London  !  Hear  me,  thou  with  the  vulture's  blood-lust, 
and  the  peacock's  vain  joy  in  the  gaudy  plume  !     Hear 

I.  — 12 


134  HAROLD. 

me,  Tostig,  and  tremble.  If  but  by  one  word  thou  widen 
the  breach  between  me  and  the  king,  outlaw  thou  enterest 
England,  outlaw  shalt  thou  depart  —  for  earldom  and 
broad  lands,  choose  the  bread  of  the  stranger,  and  the 
weregeld  of  the  wolf!" 

The  young  Saxon,  haughty  as  he  was,  quailed  at  his 
father's  thrilling  voice,  bowed  his  head,  and  retreated 
sullenly.  Godwin  sprang  on  the  deck  of  the  nearest 
vessel,  and  all  the  passions  Jhat  Tostig  had  aroused,  he 
exerted  his  eloquence  to  appease. 

In  the  midst  of  his  arguments,  there  rose  from  the 
ranks  on  the  strand,  the  shout  of  "  Harold  !  Harold  the 
Earl!  Harold  and  Holy  Crosse  !"  And  Godwin,  turn- 
ing his  eye  to  the  king's  ranks,  saw  them  agitated,  swayed, 
and  moving ;  till  suddenly  from  the  very  heart  of  the 
hostile  array,  came,  as  by  irresistible  impulse,  the  cry  — 
11  Harold,  our  Harold  !     All  hail,  the  good  Earl !  " 

While  this  chanced  without,  —  within  the  palace, 
Edward  had  quitted  the  presence-chamber,  and  was 
closeted  with  Stigand,  the  bishop.  This  prelate  had  the 
more  influence  with  Edward,  inasmuch  as  though  Saxon, 
he  was  held  to  be  no  enemy  to  the  Normans,  and  had, 
indeed  on  a  former  occasion,  been  deposed  from  his 
bishopric  on  the  charge  of  too  great  an  attachment  to 
the  Norman  Queen-mother  Emma.*  Never  in  his  whole 
life  had  Edward*  been  so  stubborn  as  on  this  occasion. 

*  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle,  a.  d.  1043.  ''Stigand  was  deposed 
from  his  bishopric,  arid  all  that  he  possessed  was  seized  iato  the 
king's  hands,  because  he  was  received  to  his  mother's  counsel,  and 


HAROLD.  135 

For  here,  more  than  his  realm  was  concerned,  he  was 
threatened  in  the  peace  of  his  household,  and  the  com- 
fort of  his  tepid  friendships.  With  the  recall  of  his 
powerful  father-in-law,  he  foresaw  the  necessary  reintru- 
sion  of  his  wife  upon  the  charm  of  his  chaste  solitude. 
His  favorite  Normans  would  be  banished,  he  should  bo 
surrounded  with  faces  he  abhorred.  All  the  representa- 
tions of  Stigand  fell  upon  a  stern  and  unyielding  spirit, 
when  Siward  entered  the  king's  closet. 

"  Sir,  my  king,"  said  the  great  son  of  Beorn,  "  I 
yielded  to  your  kingly  will  in  the  council,  that,  before  we 
listened  to  Godwin,  he  should  disband  his  men,  and  sub- 
mit to  the  judgment  of  the  Witan.  The  earl  hath  sent 
to  me  to  say,  that  he  will  put  honor  and  life  hi  my  keep- 
ing, and  abide  by  my  counsel.  And  I  have  answered  as 
became  the  man  who  will  never  snare  a  foe,  or  betray  a 
trust." 

''How  hast  thou  answered?"  asked  the  king. 

"  That  he  abide  by  the  laws  of  England,  as  Dane  and 
Saxon  agreed  to  abide  in  the  days  of  Canute ;  that  he 
and  his  sons  shall  make  no  claim  for  land  or  lordship, 
but  submit  all  to  the  Witan." 

"  Good,"  said  the  king  ;  "  and  the  Witan  will  condemn 
him  now,  as  it  would  have  condemned  when  he  shunned 
to  meet  it  ?  " 

she  went  just  as  he  advised  her,  as  people  thought."  The  saintly 
Confessor  dealt  with  his  bishops  as  summarily  as  Henry  VIII 
could  have  done,  after  his  quarrel  with  the  Pope. 


J  36  HAROLD 

"And  the  Witan  now,"  returned  the  earl,  emphatic- 
ally, "will  be  free,  and  fair,  and  just." 

"And  meanwhile  the  troops " 

*  Will  wait  on  either  side  ;  and  if  reason  fail,  then  the 
sword,"  said  Siward. 

"  This  I  will  not  hear,"  exclaimed  Edward  ;  when  the 
tramp  of  many  feet  thundered  along  the  passage;  the 
door  was  flung  open,  and  several  captains  (Norman  as 
well  as  Saxon)  of  the  king's  troops  rushed  in,  wild,  rude, 
and  tumultuous. 

"  The  troops  desert !  half  their  ranks  have  thrown  down 
their  arms  at  the  very  name  of  Harold  !"  exclaimed  the 
Earl  of  Hereford.     "  Curses  on  the  knaves  ! " 

"  And  their  lithsmen  of  London,"  cried  a  Saxon  thegn, 
"  are  all  on  his  side,  and  marching  already  through  the 
gates." 

"  Pause  yet,"  whispered  Stigand ;  "  and  who  shall  say, 
this  hour  to-morrow,  if  Edward  or  Godwin  reign  on  the 
throne  of  Alfred  ?  " 

His  stern  heart  moved  by  the  distress  of  his  king,  and 
not  the  less  for  the  unwonted  firmness  which  Edward 
displayed,  Siward  here  approached,  knelt,  and  took  the 
king's  hand. 

"  Siward  can  give  no  niddering  counsel  to  his  king ;  to 
save  the  blood  of  his  subjects  is  never  a  king's  disgrace. 
Yield  thou  to  mercy  —  Godwin  to  the  law!" 

u  Oh  for  the  cowl  and  cell ! "  exclaimed  the  prince, 
wringing  his  hands.  "Oh  Norman  home,  why  did  J 
leave  thee  ?" 


137 

He  took  the  cross  from  his  breast,  contemplated  it 
fixedly,  prayed  silently  but  with  fervor,  and  his  face 
again  became  tranquil. 

"  Go,"  he  said,  flinging  Jrimself  on  his  seat  in  the  ex- 
haustion that  follows  passion,  "  Go,  Siward,  go  Stigand, 
deal  with  things  mundane  as  ye  will." 

The  bishop,  satisfied  with  this  reluctant  acquiescence, 
seized  Siward  by  the  arm  and  withdrew  him  'from  the 
closet.  The  captains  remained  a  few  moments  behind, 
the  Saxons  silently  gazing  on  the  king,  the  Normans 
whispering  each  other,  in  great  doubt  and  trouble,  and 
darting  looks  of  the  bitterest  scorn  at  their  feeble  bene- 
factor. Then,  as  with  one  accord,  these  last  rushed 
along  the  corridor,  gained  the  hall  where  their  country- 
men yet  assembled,  and  exclaimed,  UA  toute  bride  !  Franc 
etrierf  —  All  is  lost  but  life  !  —  God  for  the  first  man, — 
knife  and  cord  for  the  last ! " 

Then,  as  the  cry  of  fire,  or  as  the  first  crash  of  aD 
earthquake,  dissolves  all  union,  and  reduces  all  emotion 
into  one  thought  of  self-saving,  the  whole  conclave, 
crowding  pell-mell  on  each  other,  bustled,  jostled, 
clamored  to  the  door — happy  he  who  could  find  horse — 
palfrey,  —  even  monk's  mule  !  This  way,  that  way,  fled 
those  lordly  Normans,  those  martial  abbots,  those  mitred 
bishops  —  some  singly,  some  in  pairs;  some  by  tens,  and 
some  by  scores  ;  but  all  prudently  shunning  association 
with  those  chiefs  whom  they  had  most  courted  the  day 
before,  and  who,  they  now  knew,  would  be  the  main 
mark  for  revenge  ;  save  only  two,  who  yet,  from  that  awe 
12* 


138  HAROLD. 

of  the  spiritual  power  which  characterized  the  Norman, 
whc  was  already  half  monk,  half  soldier,  (Crusader  and 
Templar  before  Crusades  were  yet  preached,  or  the  Tem- 
plars yet  dreamed  of), — even  in  that  hour  of  selfish  panic 
rallied  round  them  the  prowest  chivalry  of  their  country- 
men, viz.,  the  Bishop  of  London  and  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  Both  these  dignitaries,  armed  cap-a-pie, 
and  spear  in  hand,  headed  the  flight ;  and  good  service 
that  day,  both  as  guide  and  champion,  did  Mallet  de 
Graville.  He  led  them  in  a  circuit  behind  both  armies, 
but  being  intercepted  by  a  new  body,  coming  from  the 
pastures  of  Hertfordshire  to  the  help  of  Godwin,  he  was 
compelled  to  take  the  bold  and  desperate  resort  of  enter- 
ing the  city  gates.  These  were  wide  open  ;  whether  to 
admit  the  Saxon  earls,  or  vomit  forth  their  allies,  the^ 
Londoners.  Through  these,  up  the  narrow  streets,  riding 
three  a-breast,  dashed  the  slaughtering  fugitives ;  worthy 
in  flight  of  their  national  renown,  they  trampled  down 
every  obstacle.  Bodies  of  men  drew  up  against  them  at 
every  angle,  with  the  Saxon  cry  of  "Out!  —  Out!" 
H  Down  with  the  outland  men  !  "  Through  each,  spear 
pierced,  and  sword  clove  the  way.  Red  with  gore  was 
the  spear  of  the  prelate  of  London  ;  broken  to  the  hilt 
was  the  sword  militant  in  the  terrible  hand  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury.  So  on  they  rode,  so  on  they 
slaughtered  —  gained  the  Eastern  Gate,  and  passed  with 
but  two  of  their  number  lost. 

The  fields  once  gained,  for  better  precaution  they  se- 
oarated.     Some  few,  not  quite  ignorant  of  the  Saxon 


HAROLD.  _39 

tongue,  doffed  their  mail,  and  crept  through  forest  and 
fell  towards  the  sea-shore ;  others  retained  steed  and 
arms,  but  shunned  equally  the  high  roads.  The  two  pre- 
lates were  among  the  last-;  they  gained,  in  safety,  Ness, 
in  Essex,  threw  themselves  into  an  open,  crazy,  fishing- 
boat,  committed  themselves  to  the  waves,  and,  half 
drowned  and  half  famished,  drifted  over  the  Channel  to 
the  French  shores.  Of  the  rest  of  the  courtly  foreigners, 
some  took  refuge  in  the  forts  yet  held  by  their  country- 
men ;  some  lay  concealed  in  creeks  and  caves  till  they 
could  find  or  steal  boats  for  their  passage.  And  thus,  in 
the  year  of  our  Lord  1052,  occurred  the  notable  disper- 
sion and  ignominious  flight  of  the  counts  and  vavasours 
of  great  William  the  Duke  ! 


CHAPTER   III. 

The  Witana-gemot  was  assembled  in  the  Great  Hall 
of  Westminster  in  all  its  imperial  pomp. 

It  was  on  his  throne  that  the  King  sate  now  —  and  it 
was  the  sword  that  was  in  his  right  hand.  Some  seated 
below,  and  some  standing  beside,  the  throne,  were  the 
officers  of  the  Basileus*  of  Britain.     There,  were  to  be 

*  The  title  of  Basileus  was  retained  by  our  kings  so  late  as  the 
time  of  John,  who  styled  himself  »?  Totius  Insulse  Britannicse  Ba- 
Bileus." — Agard  :  On  the  Antiquity  of  Shires  in  England,  ap  Hearne, 
Cur.DU,  S$ 


\f 


140  HAROLD. 

seen  eamararius  and  pincerna,  chamberlain  and  cup- 
bearer ;  disc  thegn  and  hors  thegn  :  *  the  thegn  or  the 
dishes,  and  the  thegn  of  the  stud  ;  with  many  more,  whose 
state  offices  may  not  impossibly  have  been  borrowed  from 
the  ceremonial  pomp  of  the  Byzantine  court ;  for  Edgar, 
King  of  England,  had  in  the  old  time  styled  himself  the 
Heir  of  Constantine.  Next  to  these  sat  the  clerks  of  the 
chapel,  with  the  King's  confessor  at  their  head.  Officers 
were  they  of  higher  note  than  their  name  bespeaks,  and 
wielders,  in  the  trust  of  the  Great  Seal,  of  a  power  un- 
known of  old,  and  now  obnoxious  to  the  Saxon.  For 
tedious  is  the  suit  which  lingers  for  the  king's  writ  and 
the  king's  seal ;  and  from  those  clerks  shall  arise  hereafter 
a  thing  of  torture  and  of  might,  which  shall  grind  out 
the  hearts  of  men,  and  be  called  Chancery  !  f 

Below  the  scribes,  a  space  was  left  on  the  flooir  and 
farther  down  sat  the  chiefs  of  the  Witan.  Of  these,  first 
in  order,  both  from  their  spiritual  rank  and  their  vast 
temporal  possessions,  sat  the  Lords  of  the  Church ;  the 
chairs  of  the  prelates  of  London  and  Canterbury  were 
void.  But  still  goodly  was  the  array  of  Saxon  mitres, 
with  the  harsh,  hungry,  but  intelligent  face  of  Stigand, — 

*  Sharon  Turner. 

f  See  the  Introduction  to  Palgrave's  History  of  the  Anglo-Saxons, 
from  which  this  description  of  the  Witan  is  borrowed  so  largely, 
that  I  am  left  without  other  apology  for  the  plagiarism,  than  the 
frank  confession,  that  if  I  could  have  found  in  others,  or  conceived 
from  my  own  resources,  a  description  half  as  graphic  and  half  as 
accurate,  I  would  only  have  plagiarized  to  half  the  extent  I  have 
done. 


HAROLD.  141 

Stigand  the  stout  and  the  covetous ;  and  the  benign  but 
firm  features  of  Alfred,  true  priest  and  true  patriot,  dis- 
tinguished amidst  all.  Around  each  prelate,  as  stars 
round  a  sun,  were  his  own  special  priestly  retainers,  se- 
lected from  his  diocese.  Farther  still  down  the  hall  are 
the  great  civil  lords  and  vice-king  vassals  of  the  ''Lord- 
Paramount."  Vacant  the  chair  of  the  King  of  the  Scots, 
for  Siward  hath  not  yet  had  his  wish  ;  Macbeth  is  in  his  j 
fastnesses,  .or  listening  to  the  weird  sisters  in  the  wold  ;  j 
and  Malcolm  is  a  fugitive  in  the  halls  of  the  Northum- 
brian earl.  Vacant  the  chair  of  the  hero  Gryffyth,  son 
of  Llewelyn,  the  dread  of  the  marches,  Prince  of  Gwyned, 
whose  arms  had  subjugated  all  Cymry.  But  there,  are 
the  lesser  sulAiugs  of  Wales,  true  to  the  immemorial 
schisms  amongst  themselves,  which  destroyed  the  realm 
of  Ambrosius,  and  rendered  vain  the  arm  of  Arthur. 
With  their  torques  of  gold,  and  wild  eyes,  and  hair  cut 
round  ears  and  brow,*  they  stare  on  the  scene. 

On  the  same  bench  with  these  sub-kings,  distinguished 
from  them  by  height  of  stature,  and  calm  collectedness 
of  mien,  no  less  than  by  their  caps  of  maintenance  and 
furred  robes,  are  those  props  of  strong  thrones  and 
terrors  of  weak  —  the  earls  to  whom  shires  and  counties 
fall,  as  hyde  and  carricate  to  the  lesser  thegns.  But  three 
of  these  were  then  present,  and  all  three  the  foes  of 
Godwin  —  Siward,  Earl  of  Northumbria ;  Leofric,  of 
Mercia  (that  Leofric   whose  wife   Godiva   yet  lives  in 

*  Girald.  Gambrensis. 


142  HAROLD. 

ballad  and  song)  ;  and  Rolf,  Earl  of  Hereford  and  Wor- 
cestershire, who,  strong  in  his  claim  of  "  king's  blood," 
left  not  the  court  with  his  Norman  friends.  And  on  the 
same  benches,  though  a  little  apart,  are  the  lesser  earls, 
and  that  higher  order  of  thegns,  called  king's  thegns. 

Not  far  from  these  sat  the  chosen  citizens  from  the 
free  burgh  of  London,  already  of  great  weight  in  the 
senate,*  —  sufficing  often  to  turn  its  counsels  ;  all  friends 
were  they  of  the  English  Earl  and  his  hous^.  In  the 
same  division  of  the  hall  were  found  the  bulk  and  true 
popular  part  of  the  meeting — popular  indeed — as  repre- 
senting not  the  people,  but  the  things  the  people  most 
prized — valor  and  wealth  ;  the  thegn  land-owners,  called 
in  the  old  deeds  the  "  Ministers  :  v  they  ^Le  with  swords 
by  their  side,  all  of  varying  birth,  fortune,  and  connection, 
whether  with  king,  earl,  or  ceorl.  For  in  the  different 
districts  of  the  old  Heptarchy,  the  qualification  varied ; 
high  in  East  Anglia,  low  in  Wessex ;  so  that  what  was 
wealth  in  the  one  shire  was  poverty  in  the  other.  There 
sate,  half  a  yeoman,  the  Saxon  thegn  of  Berkshire  or 
Dorset,  proud  of  his  five  hydes  of  land ;  there,  half  an 
ealderman,  the  Danish  thegn  of  Norfolk  or  Ely,  discon- 
tented with  his  forty ;  some  were  there  in  right  of  smaller 
offices  under  the  crown  ;  some  traders,  and  sons  of 
traders,  for  having  crossed  the  high  seas  three  times  at 

*  Palgrave  omits,  I  presume  accidentally,  these  members  of  the 
Witan,  but  it  is  clear  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle  that  the 
London  "lithsmen  "  were  represented  in  the  great  Natioual  Witans, 
and  helped  to  decide  the  election  even  of  kings. 


HAROLD  143 

their  own  risk  ;  some  could  boast  the  blood  of  Offa  and 
Egbert ;  and  some  traced  but  three  generations  back  to 
neat-herd  and  ploughman  ;  and  some  were  Saxons,  and 
some  were  Danes ;  and  some  from  the  western  shires 
were  by  origin  Britons,  though  little  cognizant  of  their 
race.  Farther  down  still,  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  hall, 
crowding  by  the.  open  doors,  filling  up  the  space  without, 
were  the  ceorls  themselves,  a  vast  and  not  powerless 
body :  in  -these  high  courts  (distinct  from  the  shire 
gemots,  or  local  senates)  — never  called  upon  to  vote  or 
to  speak  or  to  act,  or  even  to  sign  names  to  the  doom, 
but  only  to  shout  "  Yea,  yea,"  when  the  proceres  pro- 
nounced their  sentence.  Yet  not  powerless  were  they, 
but  rather  to  the  Witan,  what  public  opinion  is  to  the 
Witan's  successor,  our  modern  parliament :  they  were 
opinion  !  And  according  to  their  numbers  and  their 
sentiments,  easily  known  and  boldly  murmured,  often  and 
often  must  that  august  court  of  basileus  and  prelate, 
vassal-king  and  mighty  earl,  have  shaped  the  council  and 
adjudged  the  doom. 

And  the  forms  of  the  meeting  had  been  duly  said  and 
done  ;  and  the  king  had  spoken  words,  jo  doubt  wary 
and  peaceful,  gracious  and  exhortatory ;  but  those  words 
—for  his  voice  that  day  was  weak — travelled  not  beyond 
the  small  circle  of  his  clerks  and  his  officers  ;  and  a 
murmur  buzzed  through  the  hall,  when  Earl  Godwin 
stood  on  the  floor  with  his  six  sons  at  his  back  ;  and 
you  might  have  heard  the  hum  of  the  gnat  that  vexed 
the  smooth  cheek  of  Earl  Rolf  or  the  click  of  the  spider 


144  HAROLD. 

from  the  web  on  the  vaulted  roof,  the  moment  before 
Earl  Godwin  spoke. 

"If,"  said  he,  with  the  modest  look  and  downcast  eye 
of  practised  eloquence,  "if  I  rejoice  once  more  to  breathe 
the  air  of  England,  in  whose  service,  often  perhaps  with 
faulty  deeds,  but  at  all  times  with  honest  thoughts.  I 
have,  both  in  war  and  council,  devoted  .so  much  of  my 
life  that  little  now  remains  —  but  (should  you,  my  king, 
and  you,  prelates,  proceres,  and  ministers  so  vouchsafe) 
to  look  round  and  select  that  spot  of  my  native  soil 
which  shall  receive  my  bones; — if  I  rejoice  to  stand 
once  more  in  that  assembly  which  has  often  listened  to 
my  voice  when  our  common  country  was  in  peril,  who 
here  will  blame  that  joy  ?  Who  among  my  foes,  if  foes 
now  I  have,  will  not  respect  the  old  man's  gladness  ? 
Who  amongst  you,  earls  and  thegns,  would  not  grieve, 
if  his  duty  bade  him  say  to  the  grey-haired  exile,  '  In 
this  English  air  you  shall  not  breathe-  your  last  sigh  — 
on  this  English  soil  you  shall  not  find  a  grave  ! '  Who 
amongst  you  would  not  grieve  to  say  it  ?  "  (Suddenly 
he  drew  up  his  head  and  faced  his  audience.)  "  Who 
amongst  you  hath  the  courage  and  the  heart  to  say  it  ? 
Yes,  I  rejoice  that  I  am  at  last  in  an  assembly  fit  to 
judge  my  cause,  and  pronounce  my  innocence.  For 
what  offence  was  I  outlawed  ?  For  what  offence  were  I, 
and  the  six  sons  I  have  given  to  my  land,  to  bear  the 
wolfs  penalty,  and  be  chased  and  slain  as  the  wild  beasts  ? 
Hear  me,  and  answer  ! 

"  Eustace,  Count  of  Boulogne,  returning  to  his  domains 


•     HAROLD.  145 

from  a  visit  to  our  lord  the  King,  entered  the  town  of 
Dover  in  mail  and  on  his  war-steed  ;  his  train  did  the 
same.  Unknowing  our  laws  and  customs  (for  I  desire 
to  press  light  upon  all  old  grievances,  and  will  impute 
ill  designs  to  none),  these  foreigners  invade  by  force  the 
private  dwellings  of  citizens,  and  there  select  their  quar- 
ters. Ye  all  know  that  this  was  the  strongest  violation 
of  Saxon  right ;  ye  know  that  the  meanest  ceorl  hath 
the  proverb  on  his  lip,  '  Every  man's  house  is  his  castle/ 
One  of  the  townsmen  acting  on  this  belief — which  I 
have  yet  to  learn  was  a  false  one  —  expelled  from  his 
threshold  a  retainer  of  the  French  EarPs.  The  stranger 
drew  his  sword  and  wounded  him;  blows  followed  — 
the  stranger  fell  by  the  arm  he  had  provoked.  The  news 
arrives  to  Earl  Eustace ;  he  and  his  kinsmen  spur  to 
the  spot ;  they  murder  the  Englishman  on  his  hearth- 
stone.  " 

Here  a  groan,  half-stifled  and  wrathful,  broke  from 
the  ceorls  at  the  end  of  the  hall.  Godwin  held  up  his 
hand  in  rebuke  of  the  interruption,  and  resumed  : 

"This  deed  done,  the  outlanders  rode  through  the 
streets  with  their  drawn  swords;  they  butchered  those 
who  came  in  their  way ;  they  trampled  even  children 
under  their  horses'  feet.  The  burghers  armed.  I  thank 
the  Divine  Father,  who  gave  me  for  my  countrymen 
those  gallant  burghers  !  They  fought,  as  we  English 
know  how  to  fight ;  they  slew  some  nineteen  or  more  of 
these  mailed  intruders ;  they  chased  them  from  the  town. 
Earl  Eustace  fled  fast.     Earl  Eustace  we  know  is  a  wise 

I.  — 13  K 


146  HAROLD. 

man:  small  rest  took  he,  little  bread  broke  he,  till  he 
pulled  rein  at  the  gate  of  Gloucester,  where  my  lord  the 
king  then  held  court.  He  made  his  complaint.  My 
lord  the  king,  naturally  hearing  but  one  side,  thought 
the  burghers  in  the  wrong ;  and,  scandalized  that  such 
high  persons  of  his  own  kith  should  be  so  aggrieved,  he 
sent  for  me,  in  whose  government  the  burgh  of  Dover  is, 
and  bade  me  chastise,  by  military  execution,  those  who 
had  attacked  the  foreign  Count.  I  appeal  to  the  great 
Earls  whom  I  see  before  me — to  you,  illustrious  Leofric ; 
to  you,  renowned  Siward  —  what  value  would  ye  set  on 
your  earldoms,  if  ye  had  not  the  heart  and  the  power  to 
see  right  done  to  the  dwellers  therein  ? 

"  What  was  the  course  I  proposed  ?  Instead  of  mar- 
tial execution,  which  would  involve  the  whole  burgh  in 
one  sentence,  I  submitted  that  the  reeve  and  gerefas  of 
the  burgh  should  be  cited  to  appear  before  the  king,  and 
account  for  the  broil.  My  lord,  though  ever  most  cle- 
ment and  loving  to  his  good  people,  either  unhappily 
moved  against  me,  or  over-swayed  by  the.  foreigners,  was 
counselled  to  reject  this  mode  of  doing  justice,  which  our 
laws,  as  settled  under  Edgar  and  Canute,  enjoin.  And 
because  I  would  not,  —  and  I  say  in  the  presence  of  all, 
because  I,  Godwin  son  of  Wolnoth,  durst  not,  if  I  would, 
have  entered  the  free  burgh  of  Dover  with  mail  on  my 
back  and  the  dooms-man  at  my  right  hand,  these  out- 
landers  induced  my  lord  the  king  to  summon  me  to  at- 
tend in  person  (as  for  a  sin  of  my  own)  the  council  of 
the  Witan,  convened  at  Gloucester,  then  filled  with  the 


HAROLD.  14T 

foreigners,  not,  as  I  humbly  opined,  to  do  justice  to  in© 
and  ray  folk  of  Dover,  but  to  secure  to  this  Count  of 
Boulogne  a  triumph  over  English  liberties,  and  sanction 
his  scorn  for  the  value  of  English  lives. 

"  I  hesitated,  and  was  menaced  with  outlawry  ;  I  armed 
in  self-defence,  and  in  defence  of  the  laws  of  England  ;  [ 
armed  that  men  might  not  be  murdered  on  their  hearth- 
stones, nor  children  trampled  under  the  hoofs  of  a 
stranger's  war-steed.  My  lord  the  king  gathered  his 
troops  round  'the  cross  and  the  martlets.'  Yon  noble 
earls,  Siward  and  Leofric,  came  to  that  standard,  as 
(knowing  not  then  my  cause)  was  their  duty  to  the 
Basileus  of  Britain.  But  when  they  knew  my  cause,  and 
saw  with  me  the  dwellers  of  the  land,  against  me  the  out- 
land  aliens,  they  righteously  interposed.  An  armistice 
was  concluded  ;  I  agreed  to  refer  all  matters  to  a  Witan 
held  where  it  is  held  this  day.  My  troops  were  disbanded  : 
but  the  foreigners  induced  my  lord  not  only  to  retain  his 
own,  but  to  issue  his  Herrbann  for  the  gathering  of  hosts 
far  and  near,  even  allies  beyond  the  seas.  When  I  looked 
to  London  for  the  peaceful  Witan,  what  saw  I  ?  The 
largest  armament  that  had  been  collected  in  this  reign — 
that  armament  headed  by  Norman  knights.  Was  this 
the  meeting  where  justice  could  be  done  mine  and  me? 
Nevertheless,  what  was  my  offer  ?  That  I  and  my  six 
sons  would  attend,  provided  the  usual  sureties,  agreeable 
to  our  laws,  from  which  only  thieves  *  are  excluded,  were 

*  By  Athelstan's  law,  every  man  was  to  have  peace  going  to  and 
from  the  Witan,  unless  he  was  a  thief. — Wilkins,  p.  137. 


148  HAROLD 

given  that  we  should  come  and  go  life-free  and  safe. 
Twice  this  offer  was  made,  twice  refused  ;  and  so  I  and 
my  sons  were  banished.    We  went ; — we  have  returned  !" 

"And  in  arms,"  murmured  Earl  Rolf,  son-in-law  to 
that  Count  Eustace  of  Boulogne  whose  violence  had  been 
temperately  and  truly  narrated.* 

"And  in  arms,"  repeated  Godwin:  "true;  in  arms 
against  the  foreigners  who  had  thus  poisoned  the  ear  of 
our  gracious  king;  in  arms,  Earl  Rolf;  and  at  the  first 
clash  of  those  arms  Franks  and  foreigners  have  fled.  We 
have  no  need  of  arms  now.  We  are  amongst  our  coun- 
trymen, and  no  Frenchman  interposes  between  us  and  the 
ever  gentle,  ever  generous  nature  of  our  born  king. 

"  Peers  and  proceres,  chiefs  of  this  Witan,  perhaps  the 
/argest  ever  yet  assembled  in  man's  memory,  it  is  for  you 
to  decide  whether  I  and  mine,  or  the  foreign  fugitives, 
caused  the  dissension  in  these  realms  ;  whether  our  banish- 
ment was  just  or  not ;  whether  in  our  return  we  have 
abused  the  power  we  possessed.  Ministers,  on  those 
swords  by  your  sides  there  is  not  one  drop  of  blood  !  At 
all  events,  in  submitting  to  you  our  fate,  we  submit  to 
our  own  laws  and  our  own  race.  I  am  here  to  clear  my« 
self,  on  my  oath,  of  deed  and  thought  of  treason.  There 
are  amongst  my  peers  as  king's  thegns,  those  who  will 
attest  the  same  on  my  behalf,  and  prove  the  facts  I  have 
stated,  if  they  are  not  sufficiently  notorious.  As  for  my 
sons,  no  crime  can  be  alleged  against  them,  unless  it  be 

*  Goda,  Edward's  sister,  married  first  Rolfs  father,  Count  of 
Mantes ;  secondly. — Count  of  Boulogne. 


HAROLD.  U9 

a  crime  to  have  in  their  veins  that  blood  which  flows  in 
mine — blood  which  they  have  learned  from  me  to  shed  in 
defence  of  that  beloved  land  to  which  they  now  ask  to 
be  recalled." 

The  Earl  ceased  and  receded  behind  his  children,  hav- 
ing artfully,  by  his  very  abstinence  from  the  more  heated 
eloquence  imputed  to  him  often  as  a  fault  and  a  wile,  pro- 
duced a  powerful  effect  upon  an  audience  already  pre- 
pared for  his  acquittal. 

But  now  as  from  the  sons,  Sweyn  the  eldest  stepped 
forth,  with  a  wandering  eye  and  uncertain  foot,  there  was 
a  movement  like  a  shudder  amongst  the  large  majority 
of  the  audience,  and  a  murmur  of  hate  or  of  horror. 

The  young  earl  marked  the  sensation  his  presence  pro- 
duced, and  stopped  short.  His  breath  came  thick;  he 
raised  his  right  hand,  but  spoke  not.  His  voice  died  on 
his  lips  ;  his  eyes  roved  wildly  round  with  a  haggard  stare 
more  imploring  than  defying.  Then  rose,  in  his  episcopal 
stole,  Aired  the  bishop,  and  his  clear  sweet  voice  trem- 
bled as  he  spoke. 

"  Comes  Sweyn,  son  of  Godwin,  here,  to  prove  his  in- 
nocence of  treason  against  the  king  ? — if  so,  let  him  hold 
his  peace ;  for  if  the  Witan  acquit  Godwin  son  of  Wol- 
noth  of  that  charge,  the  acquittal  includes  his  House. 
But  in  the  name  of  the  holy  Church  here  represented  by 
its  fathers,  will  Sweyn  say,  and  fasten  his  word  by  oath, 
that  he  is  guiltless  of  treason  to  the  King  of  Kings  — 
guiltless  of  sacrilege  that  my  lips  shrink  to  name  ?  Alas, 
that  the  duty  falls  on  me,  —  for  I  loved  thee  once,  and 
13* 


150  HAROLD." 

lore  thj  kindred  now.  But  I  am  God's  servant  before 
all  things"  —  the  prelate  paused,  and  gathering  up  new 
energy,  added  in  unfaltering  accents,  "I  charge  thee 
here,  Sweyn  the  outlaw,  that,  moved  by  the  fiend,  thou 
didst  bear  off  from  God's  house  and  violate  a  daughter 
of  the  Church  —  Algive,  abbess  of  Leominster  J  " 

"And  I,  "  cried  Siward,  rising  to  the  full  height  of  his 
stature,  "  I,  in  the  presence  of  these  proceres,  whose 
proudest  title  is  milites  or  warriors  —  I  charge  Sweyn, 
son  of  Godwin,  that,  not  in  open  field  and  hand  to  hand, 
but  by  felony  and  guile,  he  wrought  the  foul  and  abhor- 
rent murder  of  his  cousin,  Beorn  the  earl  ! " 

At  these  two  charges  from  men  so  eminent,  the  effect 
upon  the  audience  was  startling.  While  those  not  influ- 
enced by  Godwin  raised  their  eyes,  sparkling  with  wrath 
and  scorn,  upon  the  wasted,  yet  still  noble  face  of  the 
eldest-born  ;  even  those  most  zealous  on  behalf  of  that 
popular  House  evinced  no  sympathy  for  its  heir.  Some 
looked  down  abashed  and  mournful  —  some  regarded  the 
accused  with  a  cold  unpitying  gaze.  Only  perhaps  among 
the  ceorls,  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  might  be  seen  some 
compassion  on  anxious  faces  ;  for  before  those  deeds  of 
crime  had  been  bruited  abroad,  none  among  the  sons  of 
Godwin  more  blithe  of  mien  and  bold  of  hand,  more 
honored  and  beloved,  than  Sweyn  the  outlaw.  But  the 
hush  that  succeeded  the  charges  was  appalling  in  its 
depth.  Godwin  himself  shaded  his  face  with  his  mantle, 
and  only  those  close  by  could  see  that  his  breast  heaved 
and  his  limbs  trembled.     The  brothers  had  shrunk  from 


HAROLD.  151 

the  side  of  the  accused,  outlawed  even  amongst  his  kin — 
all  save  Harold,  who,  strong  in  his  blameless  name  ana 
beloved  repute,  advanced  three  strides  amidst  the  silence, 
and,  standing  by  his  brother's  side,  lifted  his  command- 
ing brow  above  the  seated  judges,  but  he  did  not  speak. 

Then  said  Sweyn  the  earl,  strengthened  by  such  soli- 
tary companionship  in  that  hostile  assemblage, — "  I  might 
answer  that  for  these  charges  in  the  past,  for  deeds  alleged 
as  done  eight  long  years  ago,  I  have  the  king's  grace, 
and  the  inlaw's  right ;  and  that  in  the  Witans  over  which 
I  as  earl  presided,  no  man  was  twice  judged  ^or  the  same 
offence.  That  I  hold  to  be  the  law,  in  the  great  councils 
as  the  small." 

"  It  is  !  it  is  !  "  exclaimed  Godwin  ;  his  paternal  feel- 
ings conquering  his  prudence  and  his  decorous  dignity. 
"  Hold  to  it,  my  son  ! " 

"I  hold  to  it  not,"  resumed  the  young  earl,  casting  a 
haughty  glance  over  the  somewhat  blank  and  disappointed 
faces  of  his  foes,  "  for  my  law  is  here  "  —  and  he  smote 
his  heart  —  "  and  that  condemns  me  not  once  alone,  but 
evermore  !  Aired,  O  holy  father,  at  whose  knees  I  once 
confessed  my  every  sin, — I  blame  thee  not  that  thou  first, 
in  the  Witan,  lifted  thy  voice  against  me,  though  thou 
knowest  that  I  loved  Algive  from  youth  upward  ;  she, 
with  her  heart  yet  mine,  was  given  in  the  last  year  of 
Hardicanute,  when  might  was  right,  to  the  Church.  I 
met  her  again,  flushed  with  my  victories  over  the  Walloon 
kings,  with  power  in  my  hand  and  passion  in  my  veins. 
Deadly  was  my  sin  ! — But  what  asked  I  ?  that  vows  com. 


152  HAROLD. 

pelled  should  be  annulled  ;  that  the  iove  of  my  youth 
might  yet  be  the  wife  of  my  manhood.  Pardon,  that  I 
knew  not  then  how  eternal  are  the  bonds  ye  of  the  Church 
have  woven  round  those  of  whom,  if  ye  fail  of  saints,  ye 
may  at  least  make  martyrs  ! " 

He  paused,  and  his  lip  curled,  and  his  eye  shot  wild- 
fire ;  for  in  that  moment  his  mother's  blood  was  high 
within  him,  and  he  looked  and  thought,  perhaps,  as  some 
heathen  Dane,  but  the  flash  of  the  former  man  was  mo- 
mentary, and  humbly  smiting  his  breast,  he  murmured, 
"Avaunt,  S^tan  !  —  yea,  deadly  was  my  sin  !  And  the 
sin  was  mine  alone  ;  Algive,  if  stained,  was  blameless ; 
she  escaped  —  and  —  and  died! 

"  The  king  was  wroth  ;  and  first  to  strive  against  my 
pardon  was  Harold  my  brother,  who  now  alone  in  my 
penitence  stands  by  my  side  :  he  strove  manfully  and 
openly ;  I  blamed  him  not :  but  Beorn,  my  cousin,  de- 
sired my  earldom,  and  he  strove  against  me,  wilily  and  in 
secret,  —  to  my  face  kind,  behind  my  back  despiteful.  I 
detected  his  falsehood,  and  meant  to  detain,  but  not  to 
slay  him.  He  lay  bound  in  my  ship  ;  he  reviled  and  he 
taunted  me  in  the  hour  of  my  gloom  ;  and  when  the  blood 
of  the  sea-kings  flowed  in  fire  through  my  veins.  And  I 
lifted  my  axe  in  ire  ;  and  my  men  lifted  theirs,  and  so, — 
and  so  !  —  Again  I  say  —  Deadly  was  my  sin! 

M  Think  not  that  I  seek  now  to  make  less  my  guilt,  as 
I  sought  when  I  deemed  that  life  was  yet  long,  and  power 
was  yet  sweet.  Since  then  I  have  known  worldly  evil, 
and  worldly  good,  —  the  storm  and  the  shine  of  life  ;  I 


HAROLD.  153 

have  swept  tbe  seas,  a  sea-king ;  I  have  battled  with  the 
Dane  in  his  native  land  ;  I  have  almost  grasped  in  my 
right  Land,  as  I  grasped  in  my  dreams,  the  crown  of  my 
kinsman,  Canute  ; — again,  I  have  been  a  fugitive  and  an 
exile  ;  —  again,  I  have  been  inlawed,  and  earl  of  all  the 
lands  from  Isis  to  the  Wye.*  And  whether  in  state  or 
in  penury, — whether  in  war  or  in  peace,  I  have  seen  the 
pale  face  of  the  nun  betrayed,  and  the  gory  wounds  of  the 
murdered  man.  Wherefore  I  come  not  here  to  plead  for 
a  pardon,  which  would  console  me  not,  but  formally  to 
dissever  my  kinsmen's  cause  from  mine,  which  alone  sul- 
lies and  degrades  it ; — I  come  here  to  say,  that,  coveting 
not  your  acquittal,  fearing  not  your  judgment,  I  pro- 
nounce mine  own  doom.  Cap  of  noble,  and  axe  of  war- 
rior, I  lay  aside  for  ever ;  barefooted,  and  alone,  I  go 
hence  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre ;  there  to  assoil  my  soul, 
and  implore  tha4  grace  which  cannot  come  from  man  ! 
Harold,  step  forth  in  the  place  of  Sweyn  the  first-born  ! 
And  ye  prelates  and  peers,  milites  and  ministers,  proceed 
to  adjudge  the  living  !  To  you,  and  to  England,  he  who 
now  quits  you  is  the  dead  ! " 

He  gathered  his  robe  of  state  over  his  breast  as  a 
monk  his  gown,  and  looking  neither  to  right  nor  to  left, 
passed  slowly  down  the  hall,  through  the  crowd,  which 
made  way  for  him  in  awe  and  silence  ;  and  it  seemed  to 
the  assembly  as  if  a  cloud  had  gone  from  the  face  of 
day. 

*  More  correctly  of  Oxford,  Somerset,  Berkshire,  Gloucester,  and 
Hereford. 
13* 


154  HAROLD. 

And  Godwin  still  stood  with  his  face  covered  by  his 
robe. 

And  Harold  anxiously  watched  the  faces  of  the  assem- 
bly, and  saw  no  relenting  ! 

And  Gurth  crept  to  Harold's  side. 

And  the  gay  Leofwine  looked  sad. 

And  the  young  Wolnoth  turned  pale  and  trembled. 

And  the  fierce  Tostig  played  with  his  golden  chain. 

And  one  low  sob  was  heard,  and  it  came  from  the 
breast  of  Aired,  the  meek  accuser, — God's  firm  but  gentle 
priest. 


CHAPTER   IT. 

This  memorable  trial  ended,  as  the  reader  will  have 
foreseen,  in  the  formal  renewal  of  Sweyn's  outlawry,  and 
the  formal  restitution  of  the  Earl  Godwin  and  his  other 
sons  to  their  lands  and  honors,  with  declarations  imputing 
all  the  blame  of  the  late  dissensions  to  the  foreign  favor- 
ites, and  sentence  of  banishment  against  them,  except 
only,  by  way  of  a  bitter  mockery,  some  varlets  of  low 
degree,  such  as  Humphrey  Cocks-foot,  and  Richard,  Son 
of  Scrob.* 

*  Yet  how  little  safe  it  is  for  the  great  to  despise  the  low-born  ! 
This  very  Richard,  son  of  Scrob,  more  euphoniously  styled  by  the 
Normans  Richard  Fitz  Scrob,  settled  in  Herefordshire  (he  was 
probably  among  the  retainers  of  Earl  Rolf),  and  on  William's  land- 
ing, became  the  chief  and  most  active  supporter  of  the  invader  in 


HAROLD.  155 

The  return  to  power  of  this  able  and  vigorous  family 
vas  attended  with  an  instantaneous  effect  upon  the  long- 
relaxed  strings  of  the  imperial  government.  Macbeth 
heard,  and  trembled  in  his  moors  ;  Gryffyth  of  Wales  lit 
the  fire-beacon  on  moel  and  craig.  Earl  llolf  was 
banished,  but  merely  as  a  nominal  concession  to  public 
opinion  :  his  kinship  to  Edward  sufficed  to  restore  him 
soon,  not  only  to  England,  but  to  the  lordship  of  the 
Marches,  and  thither  was  he  sent,  with  adequate  force, 
against  the  Welch,  who  had  half-repossessed  themselves 
of  the  borders  they  harried.  Saxon  prelates  and  abbots 
replaced  the  Norman  fugitives ;  and  all  were  contented 
with  the  revolution,  save  the  King ;  for  the  King  lost  his 
Norman  friends,  and  regained  his  English  wife. 

In  conformity  with  the  usages  of  the  time,  hostages  of 
the  loyalty  and  faith  of  Godwin  were  required  and  con- 
ceded. They  were  selected  from  his  own  family;  and  the 
choice  fell  on  Wolnoth,  his  son,  and  Haco,  the  son  of  j 
Sweyn.  As,  when  nearly  all  England  may  be  said  to 
have  repassed  to  the  hands  of  Godwin,  it  would  have 
been  an  idle  precaution  to  consign  these  hostages  to  the 
keeping  of  Edward,  it  was  settled,  after  some  discussion, 
that  they  should  be  placed  in  the  court  of  the  Norman 
duke,  until  such  time  as  the  king,  satisfied  with  the  good 
faith  of  the  family,  should  authorize  their  recall :  —  FataJ 
hostage,  fatal  ward  and  host ! 


those  districts.  The  sentence  of  banishment  seems  to  have  been 
mainly  confined  to  the  foreigners  about  the  court;  for  it  is  clear 
that  many  Norman  land-owners  and  priests  were  still  left  scattered 
throughout  the  country. 


15b  HAROLD. 

It  was  some  days  after  this  national  crisis,  and  order 
and  peace  were  again  established  in  city  and  land,  forest 
and  shire,  when,  at  the  setting  of  the  sun,  Hilda  stood 
alone  by  the  altar-stone  of  Thor. 

The  orb  was  sinking  red  and  lurid,  amidst  long  cloud- 
wracks  of  vermeil  and  purple,  and  not  one  human  form 
was  seen  in  the  landscape,  save  that  tall  and  majestic 
figure  by  the  Runic  shrine  and  the  Druid  crommel.  She 
was  leaning  both  hands  on  her  wand,  or  seid-staff,  as  it 
was  called  in  the  language  of  Scandinavian  superstition, 
and  bending  slightly  forward  as  in  the  attitude  of  listen- 
ing or  expectation.  Long  before  any  form  appeared  on 
the  road  below,  she  seemed  to  be  aware  of  coming  foot- 
steps, and  probably  her  habits  of  life  had  sharpened  her 
senses  ;  for  she  smiled,  muttered  to  herself,  "Ere  it  sets  !" 
and  changing  her  posture,  leant  her  arm  on  the  altar,  and 
rested  her  face  upon  her  hand. 

At  length,  two  figures  came  up  the  road  ;  they  neared 
the  hill ;  they  saw  her,  and  slowly  ascended  the  knoll. 
The  one  was  dressed  in  the  serge  of  a  pilgrim,  and  his 
cowl  thrown  back,  showed  the  face  where  human  beauty 
and  human  power  lay  ravaged  and  ruined  by  human 
passions.  He  upon  whom  the  pilgrim  lightly  leaned  was 
attired  simply,  without  the  brooch  or  bracelet  common 
to  thegns  of  high  degree,  yet  his  port  was  that  of  majesty, 
and  his  brow  that  of  mild  command.  A  greater  contrast 
could  not  be  conceived  than  that  between  these  two  men, 
yet  united  by  a  family  likeness.  .  For  the  countenance 
of  the  last  described  was.  though  sorrowful  at  that 
moment,  and    Indeed    habitually   not   without  a  certain 


HAROLD.  151 

melancholy,  wonderfully  imposing  from  its  calm  and 
sweetness.  There,  no  devouring  passions  had  left  the 
cloud  or  ploughed  the  line;  but  all  the  smooth  loveliness 
of  youth  took  dignity  from  the  conscious  resolve  of  man. 
The  long  hair,  of  a  fair  brown,  with  a  slight  tinge  of  gold, 
as  the  last  sun-beams  shot  through  its  luxuriance,  was 
parted  from  the  temples,  and  fell  in  large  waves  half-way 
to  the  shoulder.  The  eye-brows,  darker  in  hue,  arched 
and  finely  traced  ;  the  straight  features  not  less  manly 
than  the  Norman,  but  less  strongly  marked  ;  the  cheek, 
hardy  with  exercise  and  exposure,  yet  still  retaining  some- 
what of  youthful  bloom  under  the  pale  bronze  of  its  sun- 
burnt surface  :  the  form  tall,  not  gigantic,  and  vigorous 
rather  from  perfect  proportion  and  athletic  habits  than 
from  breadth  and  bulk — were  all  singularly  characteristic 
of  the  Saxon  beauty  in  its  highest  and  purest  type^But 
what  chiefly  distinguished  this  personage,  was  that 
peculiar  dignity,  so  simple,  so  sedate,  which  no  pomp 
seems  to  dazzle,  no  danger  to  disturb;  and  which  per- 
haps arises  from  a  strong  sense  of  self-dependence,  and 
is  connected  with  self-respect  —  a  dignity  common  to  the 
Indian  and  the  Arab  ;  and  rare,  except  in  that  state  of 
society  in  which  each  man  is  a  power  in  himself.  The 
Latin  tragic  poet  touches  close  upon  that  sentiment  in 
the  fine  lines  — 

"Rex  est  qui  metuit  nihil; 
Hoc  regnum  sibi  quisque  dat."  * 

*  Seneca,  Thyest.  Act  ii.  —  "He  is  a  king  who  fears  nothing: 
that  kingdom  every  man  gives  to  himself." 

I. —  14 


158  HAROLD. 

So  stood  the  brothers,  Sweyn  the  outlaw  and  Harold 
the  Earl  before  the  reputed  prophetess.  She  looked  on 
both  with  a  steady  eye,  which  gradually  softened  almost 
into  tenderness,  as  it  finally  rested  upon  the  pilgrim. 

"And  is  it  thus,"  she  said  at  last,  "that  I  see  the  first- 
born of  Godwin  the  fortunate,  for  whom  so  often  I  have 
tasked  the  thunder,  and  watched  the  setting  sun  ?  for 
whom  my  runes  have  been  graven  on  the  bark  of  the  elm, 
and  the  Scin-laeca  *  been  called  in  pale  splendor  from  the 
graves  of  the  dead  ?  " 

"  Hilda,"  said  Sweyn,  "  not  now  will  I  accuse  thee  of 
the  seeds  thou  hast  sown  :  the  harvest  is  gathered  and 
the  sickle  is  broken.  Abjure  thy  dark  Galdra,f  and  turn 
as  I  to  the  sole  light  in  the  future,  which  shines  from  the 
tomb  of  the  Son  Divine." 

The  Prophetess  bowed  her  head  and  replied  :  — 

"  Belief  cometh  as  the  wind.  Can  the  tree  say  to  the 
wind,  'Rest  thou  on  my  boughs?'  or  Man  to  Belief, 
1  Fold  thy  wings  on  my  heart ! '  Go  where  thy  soul  can 
find  comfort,  for  thy  life  hath  passed  from  its  uses  on 
earth.  And  when  I  would  read  thy  fate,  the  runes  are 
blanks,  and  the  wave  sleeps  unstirred  on  the  fountain. 
Go  where  the  Fylgia,J  whom  Alfader  gives  to  each  at 
his  birth,  leads  thee.  Thou  didst  desire  love  that  seemed 
shut  from  thee,  and  I  predicted  that  thy  love  should 

*  Scin-lseca,  literally  a  shining  corpse;  a  species  of  apparition 
invoked  by  the  witch  or  wizard. — See  Sharon  Turner  en  the  Super* 
stitions  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  b.  ii.  c.  14. 

f  Galdra,  magic.  %  Fylgia,  tutelar/  divinity 


HAROLD.  159 

awake  from  the  charnel  in  which  the  creed  that  succeeds 
to  the  faith  of  our  sires  inters  life  in  its  bloom.  And 
thou  didst  covet  the  fame  of  the  Jarl  and  the  Yiking, 
and  I  blessed  thine  axe  to  thy  hand,  and  wove  the  sail 
for  thy  masts.  So  long  as  man  knows-  desire,  can  Hilda 
have  power  over  his  doom.  But  when  the  heart  lies  in 
ashes,  I  raise  but  a  corpse  that,  at  the  hush  of  the  charm, 
falls  again  into  its  grave.  Yet,  come  to  me  nearer,  O 
Sweyn,  whose  cradle  I  rocked  to  the  chant  of  my  rhyme." 

The  outlaw  turned  aside  his  face,  and  obeyed. 

She  sighed  as  she  took  his  passive  hand  in  her  own, 
and  examined  the  lines  on  the  palm.  Then,  as  if  by  an 
involuntary  impulse  of  fondness  and  pity,  she  put  aside 
his  cowl  and  kissed  his  brow. 

"Thy  skein  is  spun,  and  happier  than  the  many  who 
scorn,  and  the  few  who  lament  thee,  thou  shalt  win  where 
they  lose.  The  steel  shall  not  smite  thee,  the  storm  shall 
forbear  thee,  the  goal  that  thou  yearnest  for  thy  steps 
shall  attain.  Night  hallows  the  ruin, — and  peace  to  the 
shattered  wrecks  of  the  brave  ! " 

The  outlaw  heard  as  if  unmoved.  But  when  he  turned 
to  Harold,  who  covered  his  face  with  his  hand,  but  could 
not  restrain  the  tears  that  flowed  through  the  clasped 
fingers,  a  moisture  came  into  his  own  wild,  bright  eyes, 
and  he  said,  "  Now,  my  brother,  farewell,  for  no  farther 
step  shalt  thou  wenci  with  me." 

Harold  started,  opened  his  arms,  and  the  outlaw  fell 
upon  his  breast. 

No  sound  was  heard  save  a  single  sob  ;  and  so  close 


160  HAROLD. 

was  breast  to  breast,  you  could  not  say  from  whose  heart 
it  came.  Then  the  outlaw  wrenched  himself  from  the 
embrace,  and  murmured,  "And  Haco — my  son — mother- 
less, fatherless  —  hostage  in  the  land  of  the  stranger! 
Thou  wilt  remember  —  thou  wilt  shield  him  ;  thou  be  to 
him  mother,  father  in"  the  days  to  come  !  So  may  the 
saints  bless  thee  ! "  With  these  words  he  sprang  down 
the  hillock. 

Harold  bounded  after  him  ;  but  Sweyn,  halting,  said, 
mournfully,  u  Is  this  thy  promise  ?  Am  I  so  lost  that 
faith  should  be  broken  even  with  thy  father's  son?" 

At  that  touching  rebuke,  Harold  paused,  and  the  out- 
law passed  his  way  alone.  As  the  last  glimpse  of  his 
figure  vanished  at  the  turn  of  the  road,  whence,  on  the 
second  of  May,  the  Norman  Duke  and  the  Saxon  King 
had  emerged  side  by  side,  the  short  twilight  closed 
abruptly,  and  up  from  the  far  forest-land  rose  the  moon. 

Harold  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  still  gazing  on 
the  space,  when  the  Yala  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Behold,  as  the  moon  rises  on  the  troubled  gloaming, 
so  rises  the  fate  of  Harold,  as  yon  brief,  human  shadow, 
halting  between  light  and  darkness,  passes  away  to  night. 
Thou  art  now  the  first-born  of  a  House  that  unites  the 
hopes  of  the  Saxon  with  the  fortunes  of  the  Dane." 

11  Thinkest  thou,"  said  Harold,  with  a  stern  composure, 
"that  I  can  have  joy  and  triumph  in  a  brother's  exile 
and  woe  F  " 

"Not  now,  and  not  yet,  will  the  voice  of  thy  true 
nature  be  heard  ;  but  the  warmth  of  the  sun  brings  the 


HAROLD.  161 

\ 

thunder,  and  the  glory  of  fortune  wakes  the  storm  of  the 
soul." 

"  Kinswoman,"  said  Harold,  with  a  slight  curl  of  his 
lip,  "  by  me  at  least  have  thy  prophecies  ever  passed  as 
the  sough  of  the  air ;  neither  in  horror  nor  with  faith  do 
I  think  of  thy  incantations  and  charms  ;  and  I  smile 
alike  at  the  exorcism  of  the  shaveling  and  the  spells  of 
the  Saga.  I  have  asked  thee  not  to  bless  mine  axe,  nor 
weave  my  sail.  No  runic  rhyme  is  on  the  sword-blade 
of  Harold.  I  leave  my  fortunes  to  the  chance  of  mine 
own  cool  brain  and  strong  arm.  Yala,  between  thee  and 
me  there  is  no  bond." 

The  Prophetess  smiled  loftily. 

"And  what  thinkest  thou,  O  self-dependent !  what 
thinkest  thou  is  the  fate  which  thy  brain,  and  thine  arm 
shall  win  ?  " 

"  The  fate  they  have  won  already.  I  see  no  Beyond. 
The  fate  of  a  man  sworn  to  guard  his  country,  love  jus- 
tice, and  do  right." 

The  moon  shone  full  on  the  heroic  face  of  the  young 
Earl  as  he  spoke  ;  and  on  its  surface  there  seemed  nought 
to  belie  the  noble  words.  Yet,  the  Prophetess,  gazing 
earnestly  on  that  fair  countenance,  said,  in  a  whisper, 
that,  despite  a  reason  singularly  sceptical  for  the  age  in 
which  it  had  been  cultured,  thrilled  to  the  Saxon's  heart, 
"  Under  that  calm  eye  sleeps  the  soul  of  thy  sire  ;  and 
beneath  that  brow,  so  haught  and  so  pure,  works  the 
genius  that  crowned  the  kings  of  the  north  in  the  lineage 
of  thy  mother  the  Dane." 
14*  L 


»62  HAROLD. 

"Peace!"  said  Harold,  almost  fiercely;  then,  as  if 
ashamed  of  the  weakness  of  his  momentary  irritation,  he 
added,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  Let  us  not  talk  of  these  mat- 
ters while  my  heart  is  still  sad  and  away  from  the  thoughts 
of  the  world,  with  my  brother  the  lonely  outlaw.  Night 
is  on  us,  and  the  ways  are  yet  unsafe ;  for  the  king's 
troops,  disbanded  in  haste,  were  made  up  of  many  who 
turn  to  robbers  in  peace.  Alone,  and  unarmed,  save  my 
ateghar,  I  would  crave  a  night's  rest  under  thy  roof; 
and,"  —  he  hesitated,  and  a  slight  blush  came  over  his 
cheek  —  "and  I  would  fain  see  if  your  grandchild  is  as 
fair  as  when  I  last  looked  on  her  blue  eyes,  that  then 
wept  for  Harold  ere  he  went  into  exile." 

"  Her  tears  are  not  at  her  command,  nor  her  smiles," 
said  the  Yala,  solemnly;  "her  tears  flow  from  the  fount 
of  thy  sorrows,  and  her  smiles  are  the  beams  from  thy 
joys.  For  know,  0  Harold  !  that  Edith  is  thine  earthly 
Fylgia ;  thy  fate  and  her  fate  are  as  one.  And,  vainly 
as  man  would  escape  from  his  shadow,  would  soul  wrench 
itself  from  the  soul  that  Skulda  hath  linked  to  his  doom." 

Harold  made  no  reply  ;  but  his  step,  habitually  slow, 
grew  more  quick  and  light,  and  this  time  his  reason  found 
-o  fault  with  the  oracles  of  the  Vala. 


HAROLD.  163 


CHAPTER  V. 

As  Hilda  entered  the  hall,  the  various  idlers  accustomed 
to  feed  at  her  cost  were  about  retiring,  some  to  their  homes 
in  the  vicinity,  some,  appertaining  to  the  household,  to 
the  dormitories  in  the  old  Roman  villa. 

It  was  not  the  habit  of  the  Saxon  noble,  as  it  was  of 
the  Norman,  to  put  hospitality  to  profit,  by  regarding 
his  guests  in  the  light  of  armed  retainers.  Liberal  as  the 
Briton,  the  cheer  of  the  board  and  the  shelter  of  the  roof 
were  afforded  with  a  hand  equally  unselfish  and  indiscri- 
minate ;  and  the  doors  of  the  more  wealthy  and  munifi- 
cent might  be  almost  literally  said  to  stand  open  from 
morn  to  eve. 

As  Harold  followed  the  Vala  across  the  vast  atrium, 
his  face  was  recognized,  and  a  shout  of  enthusiastic  wel- 
come greeted  the  popular  earl.  The  only  voices  that  did 
not  swell  that  cry,  were  those  of  three  monks  from  a 
neighboring  convent,  who  chose  to  wink  at  the  supposed 
practices  of  the  Morthwyrtha,*  from  the  affection  they 
bore  to  her  ale  and  mead,  and  the  gratitude  they  felt  for 
her  ample  gifts  to  their  convent. 

"  One  of  the  wicked  House,  brother,"  whispered  the 
monk. 

*  Morthwyrtha,  worshipper  of  the  dead. 


164  HAROLD. 

"Yea  ;  mockers  and  scorners  are  Godwin  and  his  lewd 
sons;"  answered  the  monk. 

And  all  three  sighed  and  scowled,  as  the  door  closed 
on  the  hostess  and  her  stately  guest. 

Twc  tall  and  not  ungraceful  lamps  lighted  the  same 
chamber  in  which  Hilda  was  first  presented  to  the  reader. 
The  handmaids  were  still  at  their  spindles,  and  the  white 
web  nimbly  shot  as  the  mistress  entered.  She  paused, 
and  her  brow  knit,  as  she  eyed  the  work. 

"But  three  parts  done?"  she  said;  "weave  fast,  and 
weave  strong." 

Harold,  not  heeding  the  maids  or  their  task,  gazec* 
inquiringly  round,  and  from  a  nook  near  the  window, 
Edith  sprang  forward  with  a  joyous  cry,  and  a  face  all 
glowing  with  delight — sprang  forward,  as  if  to  the  arms 
of  a  brother  ;  but,  within  a  step  or  so  of  that  noble  guest, 
she  stopped  short,  and  her  eyes  fell  to  the  ground. 

Harold  held  his  breath  in  admiring  silence.  The  child 
he  had  loved  from  her  cradle  stood  before  him  as  a  woman. 
Even  since  we  last  saw  her,  in  the  interval  between  the 
spring  and  the  autumn,  the  year  had  ripened  the  youth 
of  the  maiden,  as  it  had  mellowed  the  fruits  of  the  earth ; 
and  her  cheek  was  rosy  with  the  celestial  blush,  and  her 
form  rounded  to  the  nameless  grace,  which  say  that  in- 
fancy is  no  more. 

He  advanced  and  took  her  hand,  but  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  in  their  greetings,  he  neither  gave  nor  received 
the  kiss. 

"  You  are  no  child  now,  Edith,"  said  he,  involuntarily  ; 


,      HAROLD.  165 

"but  still  set  apart,  I  pray  you,  some  remains  of  the  old 
childish  love  for  Harold." 

Edith's  charming  lips  smiled  softly;  she  raised  her  eyes 
to  his,  and  their  innocent  fondness  spoke  through  happy 
tears. 

But  few  words  passed  in  the  short  interval  between 
Harold's  entrance  and  his  retirement  to  the  chamber 
prepared  for  him  in  haste.  Hilda  herself  led  him  to  a 
rude  ladder  which  admitted  to  a  room  above,  evidently 
added,  by  some  Saxon  lord,  to  the  old  Roman  pile.  The 
ladder  showed  the  precaution  of  one  accustomed  to  sleep 
in  the  midst  of  peril  :  for  by  a  kind  of  windlass  in  the 
room,  it  could  be  drawn  up  at  the  inmate's  will,  and,  so 
drawn,  left  below  a  dark  and  deep  chasm,  delving  down 
to  the  foundations  of  the  house ;  nevertheless  the  room 
itself  had  all  the  luxury  of  the  time  ;  the  bedstead  was 
quaintly  carved,  and  of  some  rare  wood ;  a  trophy  of 
arms  —  though  very  ancient,  sedulously  polished  —  hung 
o-n  the  wall.  There  were  the  small  round  shield  and  spear 
of  the  earlier  Saxon,  with  his  vizorless  helm,  and  the 
short  curved  knife  or  saex,*  from  which  some  antiqua- 
rians deem  that  the  Saxish  men  take  their  renowned 
name. 

Edith,  following  Hilda,  proffered  to  the  guest,  on  a 

*  It  is  a  disputed  question  whether  the  saex  of  the  earliest  Saxon 
invaders  was  a  long  or  short  curved  weapon, — nay,  whether  it  was 
curved  or  straight;  but  the  author  sides  with  those  who  contend 
that  it  was  a  short,  crooked  weapon,  easily  concealed  by  a  cloak, 
and  similar  to  those  depicted  on  the  banner  of  the  East  Saxons. 


166  HAROLD. 

salver  of  ^old,  spiced  wines  and  confections  ;  while  Hilda, 
silently  and  unperceived,  waved  her  seid-staff  over  the 
bed,  and  rested  her  pale  hand  on  the  pillow. 

"Nay,  sweet  cousin,"  said  Harold,  smiling,  "this  is 
not  one  of  the  fashions  of  old,  but  rather,  methinks, 
borrowed  from  the  Frankish  manners  in  the  court  of 
King  Edward." 

"  Not  so,  Harold,"  answered  Hilda,  quickly  turning ; 
"  such  was  ever  the  ceremony  due  to  Saxon  king,  when 
he  slept  in  a  subject's  house,  ere  our  kinsmen  the  Danes 
introduced  that  unroyal  wassail,  which  left  subject  and 
king  unable  to  hold  or  to  quaff  cup,  when  the  board  was 
left  for  the  bed." 

"  Thou  rebukest,  0  Hilda,  too  tauntingly,  the  pride 
of  Godwin's  House,  when  thou  givest  to  his  homely  son 
the  ceremonial  of  a  king.  But,  so  served,  I  envy  not 
kings,  fair  Edith." 

He  took  the  cup,  raised  it  to  his  lips,  and  when  he 
placed  it  on  the  small  table  by  his  side,  the  woman  had 
left  the  chamber,  and  he  was  alone.  He  stood  for  some 
minutes  absorbed  in  reverie,  and  his  soliloquy  ran  some- 
what thus  :  — 

"  Why  said  the  Yala  that  Edith's  fate  was  inwoven 
with  mine  ?  And  why  did  I  believe  and  bless  the  Yala, 
^hen  she  so  said  ?  Can  Edith  ever  be  my  wife  ?  The 
monk-king  designs  her  for  the  cloister. — Woe  and  well-a- 
day  !  —  Sweyn,  Sweyn,  let  thy  doom  forewarn  me  !  And 
if  I  stand  up  in  my  place  and  say,  '  Give  age  and  grief 
to   fe  cloister  —  youth  and  delight  to   man's    hearth/ 


HAROLD.  167 

what  will  answer  the  monks  ?  '  Edith  cannot  be  thy 
wife,  son  of  Godwin,  for  faint  and  scarce  traced  though 
your  affinity  of  blood,  ye  are  within  the  banned  degrees 
of  the  Church.  Edith  may  be  wife  to  another,  if  thou 
wilt — barren  spouse  of  the  Church,  or  mother  of  children 
who  lisp  not  Harold's  name  as  their  father.'  Out  on 
these  priests  with  their  mummeries,  and  out  on  their  war 
upon  human  hearts." 

His  fair  brow  grew  stern  and  fierce  as  the  Norman 
Duke's  in  his  ire  ;  and  had  you  seen  him  at  that  moment 
you  would  have  seen  the  true  brother  of  Sweyn.  He 
broke  from  his  thoughts  with  the  strong  effect  of  a  man 
habituated  to  self-control,  and  advancing  to  the  narrow 
window,  opened  the  lattice,  and  looked  out. 

The  moon  was  in  all  her  splendor.  The  long  deep 
shadows  of  the  breathless  forest  chequered  the  silvery 
whiteness  of  open  sward  and.  intervening  glade.  Ghostly 
arose  on  the  knoll  before  him  the  grey  columns  of  the 
mystic  Druid  —  dark  and  indistinct  the  bloody  altar  of 
the  Warrior  god.  But  there  his  eye  was  arrested;  for 
whatever  is  least  distinct  and  defined  in  a  landscape  has 
the  charm  that  is  the  strongest ;  and,  while  he  gazed,  he 
thought  that  a  pale  phosphoric  light  broke  from  the 
mound  with  the  bautastein,  that  rose  by  the  Teuton  altar. 
He  thought,  for  he  was  not  sure  that  it  was  not  some 
cheat  of  the  fancy.  Gazing  still,  in  the  centre  of  that 
light,  there  appeared  to  gleam  forth  for  one  moment,  a 
form  of  superhuman  height.  It  was  the  form  of  a  man, 
that  seemed  clad  in  arms  like  those  on  the  wall,  leaning 


168  HAROLD. 

on  a  spear,  whose  point  was  lost  behind  the  shafts  of  the 
cromraell.  And  the  face  grew  in  that  moment  distinct 
from  the  light  which  shimmered  around  it,  a  face  large 
as  some  early  god's,  but  stamped  with  unutterable  and 
solemn  woe.  He  drew  back  a  step,  passed  his  hand  over 
his  eyes,  and  looked  again.  Light  and  figure  alike  had 
vanished  ;  nought  was  seen  save  the  grey  columns  and 
the  dim  fane.  The  Earl's  lip  curved  in  derision  of  his 
weakness.  He  closed  the  lattice,  undressed,  knelt  for  a 
moment  or  so  by  the  bed-side,  and  his  prayer  was  brief 
and  simple,  nor  accompanied  with  the  crossings  and  signs 
customary  in  his  age.  He  rose,  extinguished  the  lamp, 
and  threw  himself  on  the  bed. 

The  moon,  thus  relieved  of  the  lamp-light,  came  clear 
and  bright  through  the  ro.om,  shone  on  the  trophied 
arms,  and  fell  upon  Harold's  face,  casting  its  brightness 
on  the  pillow  on  which  the  Yala  had  breathed  her  charm. 
And  Harold  slept — slept  long — his  face  calm,  his  breath- 
ing regular :  but  ere  the  moon  sunk  and  the  dawn  rose, 
the  features  were  dark  and  troubled,  the  breath  came  by 
gasps,  the  brow  was  knit,  and  the  teeth  clenched. 


BOOK  FOURTH. 

THE  HEATHEN  ALTAR  AND  THE  SAXON  CHURCH. 


CHAPTER   I. 

While  Harold  sleeps,  let  us  here  pause  to  survey  for 
the  first  time  the  greatness  of  that  House  to  which 
Sweyn's  exile  had  left  him  the  heir.  The  fortunes  of 
Godwin  had  been  those  which  no  man  not  eminently 
versed  in  the  science  of  his  kind  can  achieve.  Though 
the  fable  which  some  modern  historians  of  great  name 
have  repeated  and  detailed,  as  to  his  early  condition  as 
the  son  of  a  cow-herd,  is  utterly  groundless,  and  he  be-! 
longed  to  a  house  all-powerful  at  the  time  of  his  youth, 
he  was  unquestionably  the  builder  of  his  own  greatness. 
That  he  should  rise  so  high  in  the  early  part  of  his  career 
was  less  remarkable  than  that  he  should  have  so  long 
continued  the  possessor  of  a  power  and  state  in  reality 
more  than  regal. 

But,  as  has  been  before  implied,  Godwin's  civil  capa- 
cities were  more  prominent  than  his  warlike.  And  this 
it  is  which  invests  him  with  that  peculiar  interest  which 

T  ^-15  (169) 


170  HAROLD. 

attracts  us  to  those  who  knit  our  modern,  intelligence 
with  the  past.  In  that  dim  world  before  the  Norman 
deluge,  we  are  startled  to  recognize  the  gifts,  that  ordi- 
narily distinguish  a  man  of  peace  in  a  civilized  age. 

His  father,  Wolnoth,  had  been  "  Childe  "  *  of  the 
South  Saxons,  or  thegn  of  Sussex,  a  nephew  of  Edric 
Streone,  Earl  of  Mercia,  the  unprincipled  but  able 
minister  of  Ethelred,  who  betrayed  his  master  to  Canute, 
by  whom,  according  to  most  authorities,  he  was  right- 
eously, though  not  very  legally,  slain  as  a  reward  for  the 
treason. 

"I  promised,"  said  the  Dane  king,  "to  set  thy  head 
higher  than  other  men's,  and  I  keep  my  word."  The 
trunkless  head  was  set  on  the  gates  of  London. 

Wolnoth  had  quarrelled  with  his  uncle  Brightric, 
Edric's  brother,  and  before  the  arrival  of  Canute,  had 
betaken  himself  to  the  piracy  of  a  sea-chief,  seduced 
twenty  of  the  king's  ships,  plundered  the  southern  coasts, 
burnt  the  royal  navy,  and  then  his  history  disappears 
from  the  chronicles ;  but  immediately  afterwards  the 
great  Danish  army,  called  Thurkell's  Host,  invaded  the 

*  Saxon  Chronicle,  Florence  Wigorn.  Sir  F.  Palgrave  says  that 
the  title  of  Childe  is  equivalent  to  that  of  Atheling.  With  that 
remarkable  appreciation  of  evidence  which  generally  makes  him 
so  invaluable  as  a  judicial  authority  where  accounts  are  contra- 
dictory, Sir  F.  Palgrave  discards  with  silent  contempt  the  absurd 
romance  of  Godwin's  station  of  herdsman,  to  which,  upon  such 
very  fallacious  and  flimsy  authorities;  Thierry  and  Sharon  Turner 
have  been  hetrayed  into  lending  their  distinguished  names. 


HAROLD.  HI 

coast,  and  kept  their  chief  station  on  the  Thames.  Theii 
victorious  arms  soon  placed  the  country  almost  at  their 
command.  The  traitor  Edric  joined  them  with  a  power 
of  more  than  10,000  men  ;  and  it  is  probable  enough 
that  the  ships  of  Wolnoth  had  before  this  time  melted 
amicably  into  the  armament  of  the  Danes.  If  this,  which 
seems  the  most  likely  conjecture,  be  received,  Godwin, 
then  a  mere  youth,  would  naturally  have  commenced  his 
career  in  the  cause  of  Canute;  and  as  the  son  of  a 
formidable  chief  of  thegn's  rank,  and  even  as  kinsman 
to  Edric,  who,  whatever  his  crimes,  must  have  retained  a 
party  it  was  wise  to  conciliate,  Godwin's  favor  with 
Canute,  whose  policy  would  lead  him  to  show  marked 
distinction  to  any  able  Saxon  follower,  ceases  to  be  sur 
prising. 

The  son  of  Wolnoth  accompanied  Canute  in  his  mili- 
tary expedition  to  the  Scandinavian  continent,  and  here 
a  signal  victory,  planned  by  Godwin,  and  executed  solely 
by  himself  and  the  Saxon  band  under  his  command,  with- 
out aid  from  Canute's  Danes,  made  the  most  memorable 
military  exploit  of  his  life,  and  confirmed  his  rising  for- 
tunes. 

.  Edric,  though  he  is  said  to  have  been  low-born,  had 
married  the  sister  of  King  Ethelred  ;  and  as  Godwin 
advanced  in  fame,  Canute  did  not  disdain  to  bestow  his 
own  sister  in  marriage  on  the  eloquent  favorite,  who  pro- 
bably kept  no  small  portion  of  the  Saxon  population  to 
their  allegiance.    On  the  death  of  this,  his  first  wife,  who 


112  HAROLD. 

bore  him  but  one  son  *  (who  died  by  accident),  he  found 
a  second  spouse  in  the  same  royal  house  ;  and  the  mother 
of  his  six  living  sons  and  two  daughters  was  the  niece 
of  his  king,  and  sister  of  Sweyn,  who  subsequently  filled 
the  throne  of  Denmark.  After  the  death  of  Canute,  the 
Saxon's  predilections  in  favor  of  the  Saxon  line  became 
apparent ;  but  it  was  either  his  policy  or  his  principle 
always  to  defer  to  the  popular  will  as  expressed  in  the 
national  council ;  and  on  the  preference  given  by  the 
Witan  to  Harold  the  son  of  Canute  over  the  heirs  of 
Ethelred,  he  yielded  his  own  inclinations.  The  great 
power  of  the  Danes,  and  the  amicable  fusion  of  their  race 
with  the  Saxon  which  had  now  taken  place,  are  apparent 
in  this  decision  ;  for  not  only  did  Earl  Leofric,  of  Mercia, 
though  himself  a  Saxon  (as  well  as  the  Earl  of  Northum- 
bria,  with  the  thegns  north  of  the  Thames),  declare  for 
Harold  the  Dane,  but  the  citizens  of  London  were  of  the 
same  party ;  and  Godwin  represented  little  more  than  the 
feeling  of  his  own  principality  of  Wessex. 

From  that  time,  Godwin,  however,  became  identified 
with  the  English  cause  ;  and  even  many  who  believed 
him  guilty  of  some  share  in  the  murder,  or  at  least  the 
betrayal  of  Alfred,  Edward's  brother,  sought  excuses  n 
the  disgust  with  which  Godwin  had  regarded  the  foreign 
retinue  that  Alfred  had  brought  with  him,  as  if  to  owe 

*  This  first  wife,  Thyra,  was  of  very  unpopular  repute  with  the 
Saxons.  She  was  accused  of  sending  young  English  persons  as 
Blaves  into  Denmark,  and  is  said  to  have  been  killed  by  lightning, 


HAROLD.  173 

Lis  throne*  to  Norman  swords,  rather  than  to  English 
hearts. 

Hardicanute,  who  succeeded  Harold,  whose  memory 
he  abhorred,  whose  corpse  he  disinterred  and  flung  into 
a  fen,f  had  been  chosen  by  the  unanimous  council  ooth 
ol  English  and  Danish  thegns  ;  and  despite  Hardi- 
canute's  first  vehement  accusations  of  Godwin,  the  Earl 
still  remained  throughout  that  reign  as  powerful  as  in  the 
two  preceding  it.  When  Hardicanute  dropped  down  dead 
at  a  marriage  banquet,  it  was  Godwin  who  placed  Edward 
upon  the  throne  ;  and  that  great  Earl  must  either  have 
been  conscious  of  his  innocence  of  the  murder  of  Ed- 
ward's brother,  or  assured  of  his  own  irresponsible  power, 
when  he  said  to  the  prince  who  knelt  at  his  feet,  and, 
fearful  of  the  difficulties  in  his  way,  implored  the  Earl 
to  aid  his  abdication  of  the  throne  and  return  to  Nor- 
mandy— 

"  You  are  the  son  of  Ethelred,  grandson  of  Edgar. 
Reign,  it  is  your  duty ;  better  to  live  in  glory  than  die 
in  exile.  You  are  of  mature  years,  and  having  known 
sorrow  and  need,  can  better  feel  for  your  people.  Rely 
on  me,  and  there  will  be  none  of  the  difficulties  you  dread  j 
whom  I  favor,  England  favors." 

*  It  is  just  however  to  Godwin  to  say,  that  there  is  no  proof  of 
his  share  in  this  barbarous  transaction ;  the  presumptions,  on  the 
contrary,  are  in  his  favor;  but  the  Authorities  are  too  contradictory, 
and  the  whole  event  too  obscure,  to  enable  us  unhesitatingly  to 
confirm  the  acquittal  he  received  in  his  own  age,  and  from  his  own 
national  tribunal. 

f  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle. 

15* 


174  HAROLD. 

And  shortly  afterwards,  in  the  national  assembly,  God- 
win won  Edward  his  throne.  "  Powerful  in  speech, 
powerful  in  bringing  over  people  to  what  he  desired, 
some  yielded  to  his  words,  some  to  bribes."*  Yerily, 
Godwin  was  a  man  to  have  risen  as  high  had  he  lived 
later ! 

So  Edward  reigned,  and  agreeably,  it  is  said,  with 
previous  stipulations,  married  the  daughter  of  his  king- 
maker. Beautiful  as  Edith  the  Queen  was  in  mind  and 
in  person,  Edward  apparently  loved  her  not.  She  dwelt 
in  his  palace,  his  wife  only  in  name. 

Tostig  (as  we  have  seen)  had  married  the  daughter  of 
Baldwin,  Count  of  Flanders,  sister  to  Matilda,  wife  to 
the  Norman  Duke  ;  and  thus  the  House  of  Godwin  was 
triply  allied  to  princely  lineage — the  Danish,  the  Saxon, 
the  Flemish.  And  Tostig  might  have  said,  as  in  his 
heart  William  the  Norman  said,  "  My  children  shall  de- 
scend from  Charlemagne  and  Alfred." 

Godwin's  life,  though  thus  outwardly  brilliant,  was  too 
incessantly  passed  in  public  affairs  and  politic  schemes 
to  allow  the  worldly  man  much  leisure  to  watch  over  the 
nurture  and  rearing  of  the  bold  spirits  of  his  sons.  Githa 
his  wife,  the  Dane,  a  woman  with  a  haughty  but  noble 
spirit,  imperfect  education,  and  some  of  the  wild  and 
lawless  blood  derived  from  her  race  of  heathen  sea-kings, 
was  more  fitted  to  stir  their  ambition,  and  inflame  their 
fancies,  than  curb  their  tempers  and  mould  their  hearts 


*  William  of  Malmesbury. 


HAROLD.  173 

We  have  seen  the  career  of  Sweyn ;  but  Sweyn  was  an 
Angel  of  light  compared  to  his  brother  Tostig.  He  who 
can  be  penitent  has  ever  something  lofty  in  his  original 
nature  ;  but  Tostig  was  remorseless  as  the  tiger,  as  trea- 
cherous and  as  fierce.  With  less  intellectual  capacities 
than  any  of  his  brothers,  he  had  more  personal  ambition 
than  all  put  together.  A  kind  of  effeminate  vanity,  not 
uncommon  with  daring  natures  (for  the  bravest  races 
and  the  bravest  soldiers  are  usually  the  vainest ;  the  de- 
sire to  shine  is  as  visible  in  the  fop  as  in  the  hero),  made 
him  restless  both  for  command  and  notoriety.  "May  T 
ever  be  in  the  mouths  of  men,"  was  his  favorite  prayer. 
Like  his  maternal  ancestry,  the  Danes,  he  curled  his  long 
hair,  and  went  as  a  bridegroom  to  the  feast  of  the  ravens. 

Two  only  of  that  house  had  studied  the  Humane  Let- 
ters, which  were  no  longer  disregarded  by  the  princes  of 
the  Continent ;  they  were  the  sweet  sister,  the  eldest  of 
the  family,  fading  fast  in  her  loveless  home,  and  Harold. 

But  Harold's  mind,  —  in  which  what  we  call  common 
sense  was  carried  to  genius, — a  mind  singularly  practical 
and  sagacious,  like  his  father's,  cared  little  for  theological 
learning  and  priestly  legend  —  for  all  that  poesy  of  re- 
ligion in  which  the  Woman  was  wafted  from  the  sorrows 
of  earth. 

Godwin  himself  was  no  favorite  of  the  Church,  and 
had  seen  too  much  of  the  abuses  of  the  Saxon  priesthood 
(perhaps,  with  few  exceptions,  the  most  corrupt  and 
illiterate  in  all  Europe,  which  is  saying  much),  to  instil 
into  his  children  that  reverence  for  the  spiritual  authority 


176  HAROLD. 

which  existed  abroad  ;  and  the  enlightenment,  which  in 
him  was  experience  in  life,  was  in  Harold,  betimes,  the 
result  of  study  and  reflection.  The  few  books  of  the 
classical  world  then  within  reach  of  the  student  opened 
to  the  young  Saxon  views  of  human  duties  and  human 
responsibilities  utterly  distinct  from  the  unmeaning  cere- 
monials and  fleshly  mortifications  in  which  even  the  higher 
theology  of  that  day  placed  the  elements  of  virtue.  He 
smiled  in  scorn  when  some  Dane,  whose  life  had  been 
passed  in  the  alternate  drunkenness  of  wine  and  of  blood, 
thought  he  had  opened  the  gates  of  heaven  by  bequeath- 
ing lands  gained  by  a  robber's  sword,  to  pamper  the  lazy 
sloth  of  some  fifty  monks.  If  those  monks  had  presumed 
to  question  his  own  actions,  his  disdain  would  have  been 
mixed  with  simple  wonder  that  men  so  besotted  in  igno- 
rance, and  who  could  not  construe  the  Latin  of  the  very 
prayers  they  pattered,  should  presume  to  be  the  judges 
of  educated  men.  It  is  possible  —  for  his  nature  was 
earnest — that  a  pure  and  enlightened  clergy,  that  even  a 
clergy,  though  defective  in  life,  zealous  in  duty,  and  culti- 
vated in  mind, — such  a  clergy  as  Alfred  sought  to  found, 
and  as  Lanfranc  endeavored  (not  without  some  success) 
to  teach  —  would  have  bowed  his  strong  sense  to  that 
grand  and  subtle  truth  which  dwells  in  spiritual  authority. 
But  as  it  was,  he  stood  aloof  from  the  rude  superstition 
of  his  age,  and  early  in  life  made  himself  the  arbiter  of 
his  own  conscience.  Reducing  his  religion  to  the  sim- 
plest elements  of  our  creed,  he  found  rather  in  the  books 


HAROLD.  177 

of  Heathen  authors  than  in  the  lives  of  the  saints,  his 
notions  of  the  larger  morality  which  relates  to  the  citizen 
and  the  man.  The  love  of  country  ;  the  sense  of  justice  ; 
fortitude  in  adverse,  and  temperance  in  prosperous  for- 
tune, became  portions  of  his  very  mind.  Unlike  his 
father,  he  played  no  actor's  part  in  those  qualities  which 
had  won  him  the  popular  heart.  He  was  gentle  and 
affable ;  above  all,  he  was  fair-dealing  and  just,  not  be- 
cause it  was  politic  to  seem,  but  his  nature  to  be,  so. 

Nevertheless,  Harold's  character,  beautiful  and  sublime 
in  many  respects  as  it  was,  had  its  strong  leaven  of  human 
imperfection  in  that  very  self-dependence  which  was  born 
of  his  reason  and  his  pride.  In  resting  so  solely  on  man's 
perceptions  of  the  right,  he  lost  one  attribute  of  the  true 
hero—; faith.  We  do  not  mean  that  word  in  the  religious 
sense  alone,  but  in  the  more  comprehensive.  He  did  not 
rely  on  the  Celestial  Something  pervading  all  nature, 
never  seen,  only  felt  when  duly  courted,  stronger  and 
lovelier  than  what  eye  could  behold  and  mere  reason 
could  embrace.  Believing,  it  is  true,  in  God,  he  lost 
those  fine  links  that  unite  God  to  man's  secret  heart,  and 
which  are  woven  alike  from  the  simplicity  of  the  child 
and  the  wisdom  of  the  poet.  To  use  a  modern  illustra- 
tion, his  large  mind  was  a  "cupola  lighted  from  below.*' 

His  bravery,  though  inflexible  as  the  fiercest  sea-king's, 

when  need  arose  for  its  exercise,  was  not  his  prominent 

characteristic.     He  despised  the  brute  valor  of  Tostig, — 

his  bravery  was  a  necessary  part  of  a  firm  and  balanced 

H*  M 


178  HAROLD. 

manhood  —  the  bravery  of  Hector,  not  Achilles.  Con- 
stitutionally averse  to  bloodshed,  he  could  seem  timid 
where  daring  only  gratified  a  wanton  vanity,-  or  aimed  at 
a  selfish  object.  On  the  other  hand,  if  duty  demanded 
daring,  no  danger  could  deter,  no  policy  warp  him ; — he 
could  seem  rash  ;  he  could  even  seem  merciless.  In  the 
what  ought  to  be,  he  understood  a  must  be. 

And  it  was  natural  to  this  peculiar,  yet  thoroughly 
English  temperament,  to  be,  in  action,  rather  steadfast 
and  patient  than  quick  and  ready.  Placed  in  perils 
familiar  to  him,  nothing  could  exceed  his  vigor  ahd  ad- 
dress ;  but  if  taken  unawares,  and  before  his  judgment 
could  come  to  his  aid,  he  was  liable  to  be  surprised  into 
error.  Large  minds  are  rarely  quick,  unless  they  have 
been  corrupted  into  unnatural  vigilance  by  the  necessities 
of  suspicion.  But  a  nature  more  thoroughly  unsuspect- 
ing, more  frank,  trustful,  and  genuinely  loyal  than  that 
young  Earl's,  it  was  impossible  to  conceive.  All  these 
attributes  considered,  we  have  the  key  to  much  of  Harold's 
character  and  conduct  in  the  later  events  of  his  fated  and 
tragic  life. 

But  with  this  temperament,  so  manly  and  simple,  we 
are  not  to  suppose  that  Harold,  while  rejecting  the  super- 
stitions of  one  class,  was  so  far  beyond  his  time  as  to  re- 
ject those  of  another.  No  son  of  fortune,  no  man  placing 
himself  and  the  world  in  antagonism,  can  ever  escape 
from  some  belief  in  the  Invisible.  Caesar  could  ridicule 
and  profane  the  mystic  rites  of  Roman  mythology,  bat 


HAEOLD.  179 

he  must  still  believe  in  his  fortune,  as  in  a  god.  And 
Harold,  in  bis  very  studies,  seeing  the  freest  and  boldest 
minds  of  antiquity  subjected  to  influences  akin  to  those 
of  his  Saxon  forefathers,  felt  less  shame  in  yielding  to 
them,  vain  as  they  might  be,  than  in  monkish  impostures 
s;  easily  detected.  Though  hitherto  he  had  rejected  all 
direct  appeal  to  the  magic  devices  of  Hilda,  the  sound 
of  her  dark  sayings,  heard  in  childhood,  still  vibrated  on 
his  soul  as  man.  Belief  in  omens,  in  days  lucky  or  un- 
lucky, in  the  stars,  was  universal  in  every  class  of  the 
Saxon.  Harold  had  his  own  fortuirate  day,  the  day  of 
his  nativity,  the  14th  of  October.  All  enterprises  un- 
dertaken on  that  day  had  hitherto  been  successful.  He 
believed  in  the  virtue  of  that  day,  as  Cromwell  believed 
in  his  3rd  of  September.  For  the  rest,  we  have  described 
him  as  he  was  in  that  part  of  his  career  in  which  he  is 
now  presented.  Whether  altered  by  fate  and  circum- 
stances, time  will  show.  As  yet,  no  selfish  ambition 
leagued  with  the  natural  desire  of  youth  and  intellect  for 
their  fair  share  of  fame  and  power.  His  patriotism,  fed 
by  the  example  of  Greek  and  Roman  worthies,  was 
genuine,  pure,  and  ardent ;  he  could  have  stood  in  the 
pass  with  Leonidas,  or  leaped  into  the  gulf  with  Curtius. 


180  HAROLD 


CHAPTER    II. 

At  dawn,  Harold  woke  from  uneasy  and  broken  slum- 
bers, and  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  face  of  Hilda  large  and 
fair,  and  unutterably  calm,  as  the  face  of  Egyptian  sphinx. 

"  Have  thy  dreams  been  prophetic,  son  of  Godwin  ?" 
said  the  Yala. 

"  Our  Lord  forfend,"  replied  the  Earl,  with  unusual 
devoutness. 

"  Tell  them,  and  let  me  read  the  rede ;  sense  dwells  in 
the  voices  of  the  night." 

Harold  mused,  and  after  a  short  pause  he  said: 

"  Methinks,  Hilda,  I  can  myself  explain  how  those 
dreams  came  to  haunt  me." 

Then  raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  he  continued,  while 
he  fixed  his  clear  penetrating  eyes  upon  his  hostess :  — 

"  Tell  me  frankly,  Hilda,  didst  thou  not  cause  some 
light  to  shine  on  yonder  knoll,  by  the  mound  and  stone, 
within  the  temple  of  the  Druids?" 

But  if  Harold  had  suspected  himself  to  be  the  dupe  of 
some  imposture,  the  thought  vanished  when  he  saw  the 
look  of  keen  interest,  even  of  awe,  which  Hilda's  face 
instantly  assumed. 

"Didst  thou  see  a  light,  son  of  Godwin,  by  the  altar 
of  Thor,  and  over  the  bautastein  of  the  mighty  dead  ?  a 
flame,  lambent  and  livid,  like  moonbeams  collected  over 
snow?" 


HAROLD.  181 

"So  seemed  to  me  the  light." 

"No  human  hand  ever  kindled  that  flame,  which 
announces  the  presence  of  the  Dead,"  said  Hilda,  with  a 
tremulous  voice  ;  "  though  seldom,  uncompelled  by  the 
seid  and  the  rune,  does  the  spectre  itself  warn  the  eyes 
of  the  living." 

"What  shape,  or  what  shadow  of  shape,  does  that 
spectre  assume  ?  " 

"  It  rises  in  the  midst  of  the  flame,  pale  as  the  mist  on 
the  mountain,  and  vast  as  the  giants  of  old  ;  with  the 
saex,  and  the  spear,  and  the  shield,  of  the  sons  of  Woden. 
Thou  hast  seen  the  Scin-lseca,"  continued  Hilda,  looking 
full  on  the  face  of  the  Earl. 

"If  thou  deceivest  me  not,"  began  Harold,  doubting 
still. 

"  Deceive  thee  !  not  to  save  the  crown  of  the  Saxon 
dare  I  mock  the-might  of  the  dead.  Knowest  thou  not 
■ —  or  hath  thy  vain  lore  stood  in  place  of  the  lore  of  thy 
fathers — that  where  a  hero  of  old  is  buried,  his  treasures 
lie  in  his  grave  ;  that  over  that  grave  is  at  times  seen  at 
night  the  flame  that  thou  sawest,  and  the  dead  in  his 
image  of  air  ?  Oft  seen  in  the  days  that  are  gone,  when 
the  dead  and  the  living  had  one  faith  —  were  one  race; 
now  never  marked,  but  for  portent,  and  prophecy,  and 
doom  :  glory  or  woe  to  the  eyes  that  see  !  On  yon  knoll, 
JEsc,  (the  first-born  of  Cerdic,  that  Father-King  of  the 
Saxons,)  has  his  grave  where  the  mound  rises  green,  and 
the  stone  gleams  wan,  by  the  altar  of  Thor.  He  smote 
the  Britons  in  their  temple,  and  he  fell  smiting.     They 

I. —  16 


18£  HAROLD. 

buried  Lira  in  his  arms,  and  with  the  treasures  his  right 
hand  had  won.  Fate  hangs  on  the  house  of  Cerdic,  or 
the  realm  of  the  Saxon,  when  Woden  calls  the  laeca  of 
his  son  from  the  grave." 

Hilda,  much  troubled,  bent  her  face  over  her  clasped 
hands,  and,  rocking  to  and  fro,  muttered  some  runes  un- 
intelligible to  the  ear  of  her  listener.  Then  she  turned 
to  him,  cornmandingly,  and  said :  — 

V  Thy  dreams  now,  indeed,  are  oracles,  more  true  than 
living  Vala  could  charm  with  the  wand,  and  the  rune  : 
Unfold  them." 

Thus  adjured,  Harold  resumed :  — 

"  Methought,  then,  that  I  was  on  a  broad,  level  plain, 
in  the  noon  of  day ;  all  was  clear  to  my  eye,  and  glad  to 
my  heart.  I  was  alone,  and  went  on  my  way  rejoicing. 
Suddenly  the  earth  opened  under  my  feet,  and  I  fell  deep, 
fathom-deep^;  — deep,  as  if  to  that  central  pit,  which  our 
heathen  sires  called  Niffelheim  —  the  Home  of  Yapor  — 
the  hell  of  the  dead  who  die  without  glory.  Stunneu  by 
the  fall,  I  lay  long,  locked  as  in  a  dream  in  the  midst  of 
a  dream.  When  I  opened  my  eyes,  behold,  I  was  girt 
round  with  dead  men's  bones  ;  and  the  bones  moved  round 
me,  undulating,  as  the  dry  leaves  that  wirble  round  in 
the  winds  of  the  winter.  And  from  the  midst  of  them 
peered  a  trunkless  skull,  and  on  the  skull  was  a  mitre, 
and  from  the  yawning  jaws  a  voice  came  hissing,  as  a 
serpent's  hiss,  *  Harold  the  scorner,  thou  art  ours ! ' 
Then,  as  from  the  buzz  of  an  army,  came  voices  multi- 
tudinous, '  Thou  art  ours  ! '     I  sought  to  rise,  and  behold 


HAROLD.  183 

t 

my  limbs  were  bound,  and  the  gyves  were  fine  and  frail, 
as  the  web  of  the  gossamer,  and  they  weighed  on  me  like 
chains  of  iron.  And  I  felt  an  anguish  of  soul  that  no 
words  can  speak — an  anguish  both  of  horror  and  shame  ; 
and  my  manhood  seemed  to  ooze  from  me,  and  I  was 
weak  as  a  child  new  born.  Then  suddenly  there  rushed 
forth  a  freezing  wind,  as  from  an  air  of  ice,  and  the  bones 
from  their  whirl  stood  still,  and  the  buzz  ceased,  and  the 
mitred  skull  grinned  on  me  still  and  voiceless  ;  and  ser- 
pents darted  their  arrowy  tongues  from  the  eyeless  sock- 
ets. And  lo,  before  me  stood  (O  Hilda,  I  see  it  now  !) 
the  form  of  the  spectre  that  had  risen  from  yonder  knoll. 
With  his  spear,  and  ssbx,  and  his  shield,  he  stood  before 
me ;  and  his  face,  though  pale  as  that  of  one  long  dead, 
was  stern  as  the  face  of  a  warrior  in  the  van  of  armed 
man  ;  he  stretched  his  hand,  and  he  smote  his  ssex  on  his 
shield,  and  the  clang  sounded  hollow ;  the  gyves  broke  at 
the  clash  —  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  and  I  stood  side  by  side 
with  the  phantom,  dauntless.  Then,  suddenly,  the  mitre 
on  the  skull  changed  to  a  helm  ;  and  where  the  skull  had 
grinned,  trunkless  and  harmless,  stood  a  shape  like  War, 
made  incarnate ;  —  a  Thing  above  giants,  with  its  crest 
to  the  stars,  and  its  form  an  eclipse  between  the  sun  and 
the  day.  The  earth  changed  to  ocean,  and  the  ocean 
was  blood,  and  the  ocean  seemed  deep  as  the  seas  where 
the  whales  sport  in  the  North,  but  the  surge  rose  not  to 
the  knee  of  that  measureless  image.  And  the  ravens 
came  round  it  from  all  parts  of  the  heaven,  and  the  vul- 
tures with  dead  eyes  and  dull  scream.    And  all  the  bones, 


184  HAROLD. 

before  scattered  and  shapeless,  sprung  to  life  and  to 
form,  some  monks  and  some  warriors;  and  there  was  a 
hoot,  and  a  hiss,  and  a  roar,  and  the  storm  of  arms.  And 
a  broad  pennon  rose  out  of  the  sea  of  blood,  and  from 
the  clouds  came  a  pale  hand,  and  it  wrote  on  the  pennon, 
M  Harold  the  Accursed  ! '  Then  said  the  stern  shape  by 
his  side,  •  Harold,  fearest  thou  the  dead  men's  bones  ? ' 
and  its  voice  was  as  a  trumpet  that  gives  strength  to  the 
craven,  and  I  answered,  diddering,  indeed,  were  Harold 
to  fear  the  bones  of  the  dead!" 

"As  I  spoke,  as  if  hell  had  burst  loose,  came  a  gibber 
of  scorn,  and  all  vanished  at  once,  save  the  ocean  of 
blood.  Slowly  came  from  the  north,  over  the  sea,  a  bird 
like  a  raven,  save  that  it  was  blood-red,  like  the  ocean  ; 
and  there  came  from  the  south,  swimming  towards  me,  a 
lion.  And  I  looked  to  the  spectre  ;  and  the  pride  of  war 
had  gone  from  its  face,  which  was  so  sad  that  methought 
I  forgot  raven  and  lion,  and  wept  to  see  it.  Then  the 
spectre  took  me  in  its  vast  arms,  and  its  breath  froze  my 
veins,  and  it  kissed  my  brow,  and  my  lips,  and  said,  gently 
and  fondly,  as  my  mother,  in  some  childish  sickness,  •  Ha- 
rold, my  best  beloved,  mourn  not.  Thou  hast  all  which 
the  sons  of  Woden  dreamed  in  their  dreams  of  Valhalla  ! ' 
Thus  saying,  the  form  receded  slowly,  slowly,  still  gazing 
on  me  with  its  sad  eyes.  I  stretched  forth  my  hand  to 
detain  it,  and  in  my  grasp  was  a  shadowy  sceptre.  And, 
lo  !  round  me,  as  if  from  the  earth,  sprang  up  thegns 
and  chiefs,  in  their  armor  ;  and  a  board  was  spread,  and 
a  wassail  was  blithe  around  me.    So  my  heart  felt  cheered 


HAROLD.  185 

and  light,  and  in  my  hand  was  still  the  sceptre.  And  we 
feasted  long  and  merrily ;  but  over  the  feast  flapped  the 
wings  of  the  blood-red  raven,  and,  over  the  blood-red  sea 
beyond,  swam  the  lion,  near  and  near.  And  in  the  hea- 
vens there  were  two'  stars,  one  pale  and  steadfast,  the 
other  rushing  and  luminous  ;  and  a  shadowy  hand  pointed 
from  the  cloud  to  the  pale  star,  and  a  voice  said,  '  Lo, 
Harold  !  the  star  that  shone  on  thy  birth. '  And  another 
hand  pointed  to  the  luminous  star,  and  another  voice 
said,  '  Lo  !  the  star  that  shone  on  the  birth  of  the  victor.' 
Then,  lo  !  the  bright  star  grew  fiercer  and  larger ;  and, 
rolling  on  with  a  hissing  sound,  as  when  hot  iron  is  dipped 
into  water,  it  rushed  over  the  disk  of  the  mournful  planet, 
and  the  whole  heavens  seemed  on  fire.  So  methought 
the  dream  faded  away,  and  in  fading,  I  heard  a  full  swell 
of  music,  as  the  swell  of  an  anthem  in  an  aisle  :  a  music 
like  that  which  but  once  in  my  life  I  heard  ;  when  I  stood 
in  the  train  of  Edward,  in  the  halls  of  Winchester,  the 
day  they  crowned  him  king." 

Harold  ceased,  and  the  Yala  slowly  lifted  her  head 
from  her  bosom,  and  surveyed  him  in  profound  silence, 
and  with  a  gaze  that  seemed  vacant  and  meaningless. 

"Why  dost  thou  look  on  me  thus,  and  why  art  thou 
so  silent  ? n  asked  the  Earl. 

"  The  cloud  is  on  my  sight,  and  the  burthen  is  on  my 
soul,  and  I  cannot  read  thy  rede,"  murmured  the  Yala. 
"But  morn,  the  ghost-chaser,  that  waketh  life,  the  action, 
charms  into  slumber  life,  the  thought.  As  the  stars  pale 
at  the  rising  of  the  sun,  so  fade  the  lights  of  the  soul 
16* 


186  HAROLD. 

when  the  buds  revive  in  the  dews,  and  the  lark  sings  to 
the  day.  In  thy  dream  lies  thy  future,  as  the  wing  of  the 
moth  in  the  web  of  the  changing  worm  ;  but,  whether 
for  weal  or  for  woe,  thou  shalt  burst  through  thy  mesh, 
and  spread  thy  plumes  in  the  air.-  Of  myself  I  know 
nought.  Await  the  hour  when  Skulda  shall  pass  into  the 
soul  of  her  servant,  and  thy  fate  shall  rush  from  my  lips 
as  the  rush  of  the  wTaters  from  the  heart  of  the  cave." 

" 1  am  content  to  abide,"  said  Harold,  with  his  wonted 
smile,  so  calm  and  so  lofty  :  "  but  I  cannot  promise  thee 
that  I  shall  heed  thy  rede,  or  obey  thy  warning,  when  my 
reason  hath  awoke,  as  while  I  speak  it  awakens,  from  the 
fumes  of  the  fancy  and  the  mists  of  the  night." 

The  Yala  sighed  heavily,  but  made  no  answer. 


CHAPTER   III. 

Githa,  Earl  Godwin's  wife,  sate  in  her  chamber,  and 
her  heart  was  sad.  In  the  room  was  one  of  her  sons,  the 
one  dearer  to  her  than  all,  Wolnoth,  her  darling.  For 
the  rest  of  her  sons  were  stalwart  and  strong  of  frame, 
and  in  their  infancy  she  had  known  not  a  mother's  fears. 
But  Wolnoth  had  come  into  the  world  before  his  time, 
and  sharp  had  been  the  travail  of  the  mother,  and  long 
between  life  and  death  the  struggle  of  the  new-born  babe. 
And  his  cradle  had  been  rocked  with  a  trembling  knee, 
and  his  pillow  been  bathed  with  hot  tears.     Frail  had 


HAROLD.  187 

been  his  childhood  —  a  thing  that  hung  on  tier  care  ; 
and  now,  as  the  boy  grew,  blooming  and  strong,  into 
youth,  the  mother  felt  that  she  had  given  life  twice  to 
her  child.  Therefore  was  he  more  dear  to  her  than  the 
rest ;  and,  therefore,  as  she  gazed  upon  him  now,  fair 
and  smiling,  and  hopeful,  she  mourned  for  him  more  than 
for  Sweyn,  the  outcast  and  criminal,  on  his  pilgrimage 
of  woe,  to  the  waters  of  Jordan,  and  the  tomb  of  our 
Lord.  For  Wolnoth,  selected  as  the  hostage  for  the 
faith  of  his  house,  was  to  be  sent  from  her  arms  to  the 
Court  of  William  the  Norman.  And  the  youth  smiled 
and  was  gay,  choosing  vestment  and  mantle,  and  ateghars 
of  gold,  that  he  might  be  flaunting  and  brave  in  the  halls 
of  knighthood  and  beauty,  —  the  school  of  the  proudest 
chivalry  of  the  Christian  world.  Too  young  and  too 
thoughtless,  to  share  the  wise  hate  of  his  elders  for  the 
manners  and  forms  of  the  foreigners,  their  gaiety  and 
splendor,  as  his  boyhood  had  seen  them,  relieved  the 
gloom  of  the  cloister  court,  and  contrasting  the  spleen 
and  the  rudeness  of  the  Saxon  temperament,  had  dazzled 
his  fancy  and  half  Normanized  his  mind.  A  proud  and 
happy  boy  was  he  to  go  as  hostage  for  the  faith,  and  re- 
presentative of  the  rank,  of  his  mighty  kinsmen  ;  and 
step  into  manhood  in  the  eyes  of  the  dames  of  Rouen. 

By  Wolnoth's  side  stood  his  young  sister,  Thyra,  a 
mere  infant ;  and  her  innocent  sympathy  with  her  bro- 
ther's pleasure  in  gaud  and  toy  saddened  Githa  yet  more. 

"  0  my  son  !  "  said  the  troubled  mother,  "  why,  of  all 
my  children,  have  they  chosen  thee  ?     Harold  is  wise 


188  HAROLD. 

against  danger,  and  Tostig  is  fierce  against  foe^,  and 
Gurth  is  too  loving  to  wake  hate  in  the  sternest,  and 
from  the  mirth  of  sunny  Leofwine  sorrow  glints  aside,  as 
the  shaft  from  the  sheen  of  a  shield.  But  thou,  thou,  O 
beloved  !  — cursed  be  the  king  that  chose  thee,  and  cruel 
was  the  father  that  forgot  the  light  of  the  mother's  eyes  ! " 

"  Tut,  mother  the  dearest,"  said  Wolnoth,  pausing 
from  the  contemplation  of  a  silk  robe,  all  covered  with 
broidered  peacocks,  which  had  been  sent  him  as  a  gift 
from  his  sister  the  queen,  and  wrought  with  her  own  fair 
hands ;  for  a  notable  needle-woman,  despite  her  sage 
leer,  was  the  wife  of  the  Saint  King,  as  sorrowful  women 
mostly  are  —  "Tut!  the  bird  must  leave  the  nest  when 
the  wings  are  fledged.  Harold  the  eagle,  Tostig  the  kite, 
Gurth  the  ring-dove,  and  Leofwine  the  stare.  See,  my 
wings  are  the  richest  of  all,  mother,  and  bright  is  the 
sun  in  which  thy  peacock  shall  spread  his  pranked 
plumes." 

Then,  observing  that  his  liveliness  provoked  no  smile 
from  his  mother,  he  approached,  and  said  more  seriously : 

"  Bethink  thee,  mother  mine.  No  other  choice  was 
left  to  king  or  to  father.  Harold,  and  Tostig,  and  Leof- 
wine, have  their  lordships  and  offices.  Their  posts  are 
fixod,  and  they  stand  as  the  columns  of  our  house  And 
Gurth  is  so  young,  and  so  Saxish,  and  so  the  shadow  of 
Harold,  that  his  hate  to  the  Norman  is  a  by-word 
already  among  our  youths  ;  for  hate  is  the  more  marked 
in  a  temper  of  love,  as  the  blue  of  this  border  seems 


HAROLD.  189 

black  against  the  white  of  the  woof.  But  I;  —  the  good 
king  knows  that  I  shall  be  welcome,  for  the  Norman 
knights  love  Wolnoth,  and  I  have  spent  hours  by  the 
knees  of  Montgommeri  and  Grantmesnil,  listeuing  to  the 
feats  of  Rolfganger,  and  playing  with  their  gold  chains 
of  knighthood.  And  the  stout  Count  himself  shall  knight 
me,  and  I  shall  come  back  with  the  spurs  of  gold  which 
thy  ancestors,  the  brave  kings  of  Norway  and  Daneland, 
wore  ere  knighthood  was  known.  Come,  kiss  me,  my 
mother,  and  come  see  the  brave  falcons  Harold  has  sent 
me  :  —  true  Welch  !  n 

Githa  rested  her  face  on  her  son's  shoulder,  and  her 
tears  blinded  her.  The  door  opened  gently,  and  Harold 
entered ;  and  with  the  Earl,  a  pale  dark-haired  boy, 
Haco,  the  son  of  Sweyn. 

But  Githa,  absorbed  in  her  darling  Wolnoth,  scarce 
saw  the  grandchild  reared  afar  from  her  knees,  and  hurried 
at  once  to  Harold.  In  his  presence  she  felt  comfort  and 
safety ;  for  Wolnoth  leaned  on  her  heart,  and  her  heart 
leaned  on'  Harold. 

"  0  son,  son  ! "  she  cried,  "  firmest  of  hand,  surest  of 
faith,  and  wisest  of  brain,  in  the  house  of  Godwin,  tell 
me  that  he  yonder,  he  thy  young  brother  risks  no  danger 
in  the  halls  of  the  Normans  ! M 

"  Not  more  than  in  these,  mother,"  answered  Harold, 
soothing  her,  with  caressing  lip  and  gentle  tone.  "Fierce 
and  ruthless,  men  say,  is  William  the  Duke  against  foes 
with  their  swords  in  their  hands,  but  debonnair  and  mild 


190  HAROLD. 

to  the  gentle,*  frank  host  and  kind  lord.  And  these 
Normans  have  a  code  of  their  own,  more  grave  than  all 
morals,  more  binding  than  even  their  fanatic  religion. 
Thou  knowest  it  well,  mother,  for  it  comes  from  thy  race 
of  the  North,  and  this  code  of  honor,  they  call  it,  makes 
Wolnoth's  head  as  sacred  as  the  relics  of  a  saint  set  in 
zimmes.  Ask  only,  my  brother,  when  thou  comest  in 
sight  of  the  Norman  Duke,  ask  only  '  the  kiss  of  peace,' 
and,  that  kiss  on  thy  brow,  thou  wilt  sleep  more  safely 
than  if  all  the  banners  of  England  waved  over  thy 
couch. "  f 

"  But  how  long  shall  the  exile  be  f "  asked  Githa,  com- 
forted. 

Harold's  brow  fell. 

"  Mother,  not  even  to  cheer  thee  will  I  deceive.  The 
time  of  the  hostageship  rests  with  the  king  and  the  duke. 
As  long  as  the  one  affects  fear  from  the  race  of  Godwin, 
as  long  as  the  other  feigns  care  for  such  priests  or  such 
knights  as  were  not  banished  from  the  realm,  being  not 
courtiers,  but  scattered  wide  and  far  in  convent  and  home- 

*  So  Robert  of  Gloucester  says  pithily  of  William,  "  King  Wylliam 
was  to  mild  men  debonnere  ynou." — Hearnf   v.  ii.  p.  309. 

f  This  kiss  of  peace  was  held  singularly  sacked  by  the  Normans, 
and  all  the  more  knightly  races  of  the  continent.  Even  the  craftiest 
dissimulator,  designing  fraud  and  stratagem,  an4  murder  to  a  foe, 
would  not,  to  gain  his  ends,  betray  the  pledge  of  *he  kiss  of  peace. 
When  Henry  II.  consented  to  meet  Becket  after  his  return  from 
Rome,  and  promised  to  remedy  all  of  which  his  prelate  complained, 
he  struck  prophetic  dismay  into  Recket's  heart  by  evading  the  kisg 
of  peace. 


HAROLD.  191 

stead,  so  long  will  Wolnoth  and  Haco  be  guests  in  the 
Norman  Halls." 

Gritha  wrung  her  hands. 

"But  comfort,  my  mother;  Wolnoth  is  young,  his  eye 
is  keen;  and  his  spirit  prompt  and  quick.  He  will  mark 
these  Norman  captains,  he  will  learn  their  strength  and 
their  weakness,  their  manner  of  war,  and  he  will  come 
back,  not  as  Edward  the  King  came,  a  lover  of  things 
un-Saxon,  but  able  to  warn  and  to  guide  us  against  the 
plots  of  the  camp-court,  which  threatens  more,  year  by 
year,  the  peace  of  the  world.  And  he  will  see  there  arts 
we  may  worthily  borrow  ;  not  the  cut  of  a  tunic,  and  the 
fold  of  a  gonna,  but  the  arts  of  men  who  found  states 
and  build  nations.  William  the  Duke  is  splendid  and 
wise  ;  merchants  tell  us  how  crafts  thrive  under  his  iron 
hand,  and  warmen  say  that  his  forts  are  constructed  with 
skill,  and  his  battle-schemes  planned  as  the  mason  plans 
key-stone  and  arch,  with  weight  portioned  out  to  the 
prop,  and  the  force  of  the  hand  made  tenfold  by  the 
science  of  the  brain.  So  that  the  boy  will  return  to  us 
a  man  round  and  complete,  a  teacher  of  greybeards,  and 
the  sage  of  his  kin  ;  fit  for  earldom  and  rule,  fit  for  glory 
and  England.  Grieve  not,  daughter  of  the  Dane  kings, 
that  thy  son,  the  best  loved,  hath  nobler  school  and  wider 
field  than  his  brothers. " 

This  appeal  touched  the  proud  heart  of  the  niece  of 
Canute  the  Great,  and  she  almost  forgot  the  grief  of  her 
love  in  the  hope  of  her  ambition. 

She  dried  her  tears  and    smiled  upon  Wolnoth,  and 


192  HAROLD. 

already,  in  the  dreams  of  a  mother's  vanity,  saw  him 
great  as  Godwin  in  council,  and  prosperous  as  Harold  in 
the  field.  Nor,  half  Norman  as  he  was,  did  the  young 
man  seem  insensible  of  the  manly  and  elevated  patriotism 
of  his  brother's  hinted  lessons,  though  he  felt  they  im- 
plied reproof.  He  came  to  the  Earl,  whose  arm  was 
round  his  mother,  and  said  with  a  frank  heartiness  not 
usual  to  a  nature  somewhat  frivolous  and  irresolute  — 

"  Harold,  thy  tongue  could  kindle  stones  into  men,  and 
warm  those  men  into  Saxons.  Thy  Wolnoth  shall  not 
hang  his  head  with  shame  when  he  comes  back  to  our 
merrie  land  with  shaven  locks  and  spurs  of  gold.  For 
if  thou  doubtest  his  race  from  his  look,  thou  shalt  put 
thy  right  hand  on  his  heart,  and  feel  England  beat  there 
in  every  pulse." 

"Brave  words,  and  well  spoken,"  cried  the  Earl,  and 
he  placed  his  hand  on  the  boy's  head  as  in  benison. 

Till  then,  Haco  had  stood  apart,  conversing  with  the 
infant  Thyra,  whom  his  dark,  mournful  face  awed  and 
yet  touched,  for  she  nestled  close  to  him,  and  put  her 
little  hand  in  his ;  but  now,  inspired  no  less  than  his 
cousin  by  Harold's  noble  speech,  he  came  proudly  forward 
by  Wolnoth's  side,  and  said  — 

j,  "I,  too,  am  English,  and  I  have  the  name  of  English- 
man to  redeem." 

Ere  Harold  could  reply,  Githa  exclaimed  — 

"  Leave  there  thy  right  hand  on  my  child's  head,  and 
say,  simply,  —  'By  my  troth  and  my  plight,  if  the  Duke 
detain  Wolnoth,  son   of  Githa,  against  just  plea,   and 


HAROLD.  198 

king's  assent  to  his  return,  I,  Harold,  will,  failing  letter 
and  nuncius,  cross  the  seas,  to  restore  the  child  to  the 
mother.'  " 

Harold  hesitated. 

A  sharp  cry  of  reproach  that  went  to  his  heart  broke 
from  Githa's  lips. 

"Ah  !  cold  and  self-heeding,  wilt  thou  send  him  to  bear 
a  peril  from  which  thou  shrinkest  thyself  ? " 

"  By  my  troth  and  my  plight,  then,"  said  the  Earl,  "  if, 
fair  time  elapsed,  peace  in  England,  without  plea  of  jus- 
tice, and  against  my  King's  fiat,  Duke  William  of  Nor- 
mandy detain  the  hostages,  —  thy  son  and  this  dear  boy, 
more  sacred  and  more  dear  to  me  for  his  father's  woes, — 
I  will  cross  the  seas  to  restore  the  child  to  the  mother, 
the  fatherless  to  his  father-land.  So  help  me,  all-seeing 
One,  Amen  and  Amen  ! " 


CHAPTER   IY. 

We  have  seen,  in  an  earlier  part  of  this  record,  that 
Harold  possessed,  amongst  his  numerous  and  more  stately 
possessions,  a  house,  not  far  from  the  old  Roman  dwell- 
ii.g-place  of  Hilda.  And  in  this  residence  he  now  (savf 
when  the  king)  made  his  chief  abode.  He  gave  as  the 
reasons  for  his  selection,  the  charm  it  took,  in  bis  eyes, 
from  that  signal  mark  of  affection  which  his  ceorls  had 
rendered  him,  in  purchasing  the  house   and  tilling  the 

L— It  N 


1^4  HAROLD. 

ground  in  his  absence ;  and  more  especially  the  con- 
venience of  its  vicinity  to  the  new  palace  at  Westminster  ; 
for  by  Edward's  special  desire,  while  the  other  brothers 
repaired  to  their  different  domains,  Harold  remained  near 
his  royal  person.  To  use  the  words  of  the  great  Nor- 
wegian chronicler,  "  Harold  was  always  with  the  Court 
itself,  and  nearest  to  the  king  in  all  service."  "  The  king 
loved  him  very  much,  and  kept  him  as  his  own  son,  for 
he  had  no  children."*  This  attendance  on  Edward  was 
naturally  most  close  at  the  restoration  to  power  of  the 
Earl's  family.  For  Harold,  mild  and  conciliating,  was, 
like  Aired,  a  great  peace-maker,  and  Edward  had  never 
cause  to  complain  of  him,  as  he  believed  he  had  of  the 
rest  of  that  haughty  house.  But  the  true  spell  which 
made  dear  to  Harold  the  rude  building  of  timber,  with 
its  doors  open  all  day  to  its  lithsmen,  when  with  a  light 
heart  he  escaped  from  the  halls  of  Westminster,  was  the 
fair  face  of  Edith  his  neighbor.  The  impression  which 
this  young  girl  had  made  upon  Harold  seemed  to  par- 
take of  the  strength  of  a  fatality.  For  Harold  had  loved 
her  before  the  marvellous  beauty  of  her  womanhood  be- 
gan ;  and,  occupied  from  his  earliest  youth  in  grave  and 
earnest  affairs,  his  heart  had  never  been  frittered  away 
on  the  mean  and  frivolous  affections  of  the  idle.  Now, 
in  that  comparative  leisure  of  his  stormy  life,  he  was 
naturally  most  open  to  the  influence  of  a  charm  more 
potent  than  all  the  glamoury  of  Hilda. 

*  Snorro  Sturleson's  Heimskringla.  —  Laing's  Translation,  pp. 
75-77. 


HAROLD.  195 

The  autumn  sun  shone  through  the  golden  glades  of 
the  forest-land,  when  Edith  sate  alone  on  the  knoll  that 
faced  forest-land  and  road,  and  watched  afar. 

And  the  birds  sung  cheerily;  but  that  was  not  the 
sound  for  which  Edith  listened  :  and  the  squirrel  darted 
from  tree  to  tree  on  the  sward  beyond  ;  but  not  to  see 
the  games  of  the  squirrel  sate  Edith  by  the  grave  of  the 
Teuton.  By-and-by,  came  the  cry  of  the  dogs,  and  the 
tall  greyhound  *  of  Wales  emerged  from  the  bosky  dells. 
Then  Edith's  heart  heaved,  and  her  eyes  brightened. 
And  now,  with  his  hawk  on  his  wrist,  and  his  spear f  in 
his  hand,  came  through  the  yellowing  boughs,  Harold 
the  Earl. 

And  well  may  ye  ween,  that  his  heart  beat  as  loud  and 
his  eye  shone  as  bright  as  Edith's,  when  he  saw  who  had 
watched  for  his  footsteps  on  the  sepulchral  knoll;  Love, 
forgetful  of  the  presence  of  Deatn  ; — so  has  it  ever  been, 
so  ever  shall  it  be  !  He  hastened  his  stride,  and  bounded 
up  the  gentle  hillock,  and  his  dogs,  with  a  joyous  bark, 
came  round  the  knees  of  Edith.  Then  Harold  shook  the 
bird  from  his  wrist,  ana  it  fell,  with  its  light  wing,  on  the 
altar-stone  of  Thor. 

"  Thou  art  late,  but  thou  art  welcome,  Harold  my 
kinsman,"  said  Edith,  simply,  as  she  bent  her  face  over 
the  hounds,  whose  gaunt  heads  she  caressed 

*  The  gre-hound  was  so  called  from  hunting  the  gre,  or  badger. 

f  The  spear  and  the  hawk  were  as  the  badges  of  Saxon  nobility; 
and  a  thegn  was  seldom  seen  abroad  without  the  one  on  his  left 
wrist,  the  other  in  his  right  hand. 


196  HAROLD. 

"Call  me  not  kinsman,"  said  Harold,  shrinking,  and 
with  a  dark  cloud  on  his  broad  brow. 

"And  why,  Harold?" 

"  Oh,  Edith,  why  ? "  murmured  Harold ;  and  his 
thought  added,  "  she  knows  not,  poor  child,  that  in  that 
mockery  of  kinship  the  Church  sets  its  ban  on  our 
bridals." 

He  turned,  and  chid  his  dogs  fiercely  as  they  gambolled 
in  rough  glee  round  their  fair  friend. 

The  hounds  crouched  at  the  feet  of  Edith ;  and  Edith 
looked  in  mild  wonder  at  the  troubled  face  of  the  Earl. 

"  Thine  eyes  rebuke  me,  Edith,  more  than  my  words 
the  hounds  !  "  said  Harold,  gently.  "  But  there  is  quick 
blood  in  my  veins  ;  and  the  mind  must  be  calm  when  it 
would  control  the  humor.  Calm  was  my  mind,  sweet 
Edith,  in  the  old  time,  when  thou  wert  an  infant  on  my 
knee,  and  wreathing,  with  these  rude  hands,  flower-chains 
for  thy  neck  like  the  swan's  down,  I  said  —  'The  flowers 
fade,  but  the  chain  lasts  when  love  weaves  it/" 

Edith  again  bent  her  face  over  the  crouching  hounds. 
Harold  gazed  on  her  with  mournful  fondness ;  and  the 
bird  still  sung,  and  the  squirrel  swung  himself  again  from 
bough  to  bough.     Edith  spoke  first  — 

"  My  godmother,  thy  sister,  hath  sent  for  me,  Harold, 
and  I  am  to  go  to  the  court  to-morrow.  Shalt  thou  be 
there?" 

"Surely,"  said  Harold,  in  an  anxious  voice,  "surely,  I 
will  be  there  !  So  my  sister  hath  sent  for  thee  :  wittest 
thou  wherefore  ?  " 


HAROLD.  197 

Edith  grew  very  pale,  and  her  tone  trembled  as  she 
answered  — 

"  Well-a-day,  yes." 

*  It  is  as  I  feared,  then  ! "  exclaimed  Harold,  in  great 
agitation;  "  and  my  sister,  whom  these  monks  have  de- 
mented, leagues  herself  with  the  king  against  the  law  of 
the  wide  welkin  and  the  grand  religion  of  the  human 
heart.  Oh  I  *  continued  the  Earl,  kindling  into  an  en- 
thusiasm, rare  to  his  even  moods,  but  wrung  as  much  from 
his  broad  sense  as  from  his  strong  affection,  "  when  I 
compare  the  Saxon  of  our  land  and  day,  all  enervated 
and  decrepit  by  priestly  superstition,  with  his  forefathers 
in  the  first  Christian  era,  yielding  to  the  religion  they 
adopted  in  its  simple  truths,  but  not  to  that  rot  of  social 
happiness  and  free  manhood  which  this  cold  and  lifeless 
monachism — making  virtue  the  absence  of  human  ties — 
spreads  around — which  the  great  Bede,*  though  himself 
a  monk,  vainly  but  bitterly  denounced  ;  —  yea,  verily, 
when  I  see  the  Saxon  already  the  theowe  of  the  priest, 
I  shudder  to  ask  how  long  he  will  be  folk-free  of  the 
tyrant." 

He  paused,  breathed  hard,  and  seizing,  almost  sternly, 
the  girl's  trembling  arm,  he  resumed  between  his  set 
teeth,  —  "  So  they  would  have  thee  be  a  nun  ?  —  Thou 
wilt  not, — thou  durst  not,  —  thy  heart  would  perjure  thy 
rows  1 " 

"Ah,   Harold!"  answered  Edith,   moved  out  of  alJ 

*  Bed.  Epist.  ad  Egbert. 


198  HAROLD. 

bashfulness  by  his  emotion  and  her  own  terror  of  the 
comment,  and  answering,  if  with  the  love  of  a  woman,  still 
with  all  the  unconsciousness  of  a  child  :  "  better,  oh  better 
the  grate  of  the  body  than  that  of  the  heart !  —  In  the 
grave  I  could  still  live  for  those  I  love  ;  behind  the  Grate, 
love  itself  must  be  dead.  Yes,  thou  pitiest  me,  Harold ; 
thy  sister,  the  queen,  is  gentle  and  kind ;  I  will  fling  my- 
self at  her  feet,  and  say  — '  Youth  is  fond,  and  the  world 
is  fair :  let  me  live  my  youth,  and  bless  God  in  the  world 
that  He  saw  was  good  ! ' " 

"  My  own,  own  dear  Edith  ! "  exclaimed  Harold,  over- 
joyed. "  Say  this.  Be  firm  ;  they  cannot,  and  they  dare 
not  force  thee  !  The  law  cannot  wrench  thee  against  thy 
will  from  the  ward  of  thy  guardian  Hilda  ;  and,  where 
the  law  is,  there  Harold  at  least  is  strong, — and  there  at 
least  our  kinship,  if  my  bane,  is  thy  blessing." 

"Why,  Harold,  sayest  thou  that  our  kinship  is  thy 
bane  ?  It  is  so  sweet  to  me  to  whisper  to  myself,  '  Ha- 
rold is  of  thy  kith,  though  distant ;  and  it  is  natural  to 
thee  to  have  pride  in  his  fame,  and  joy  in  his  presence  ! ' 
Why  is  that  sweetness  to  me,  to  thee  so  bitter  ?  " 

"  Because,"  answered  Harold,  dropping  the  hand  he 
had  clasped,  and  folding  his  arms  in  deep  dejection,  "  be- 
cause but  for  that  I  should  say^-'  Edith,  I  love  thee  more 
than  a  brother  :  Edith,  be  Harold's  wife  ! '  And  were  I 
to  say  it,  and  were  we  to  wed,  all  the  priests  of  the  Saxons 
would  lift  up  their  hands  in  horror,  and  curse  our  nup- 
tials; and  I  should  be  the  bann'd  of  that  spectre  the 
Church  ;   and  my  house  would  shake  to  its  foundations : 


HAROLD.  199 

and  my  father,  and  my  brothers,  and  the  thegns  and  the 
proceres,  and  the  abbots  and  prelates,  whose  aid  makes 
our  force,  would  gather  round  me  with  threats  and  with 
prayers,  that  I  might  put  thee  aside.  And  mighty  as  1 
am  now,  so  mighty  once  was  Sweyn  my  brother ;  and 
outlaw  as  Sweyn  is  now,  might  Harold  be,  and  outlaw 
if  Harold  were,  what  breast  so  broad  as  his  could  fill  up 
the  gap  left  in  the  defence  of  England  ?  And  the  pas- 
sions that  I  curb,  as  a  rider  his  steed,  might  break  their 
rein;  and,  strong  injustice,  and  child  of  Nature,  I  might 
come,  with  banner  and  mail,  against  Church,  and  House, 
and  Father-land  ;  and  the  blood  of  my  countrymen  might 
be  poured  like  water :  and,  therefore,  slave  to  the  lying 
thraldom  he  despises,  Harold  dares  not  say  to  the  maid 
of  his  love,  — ?  Give  me  thy  right  hand,  and  be  my 
bride  !  > " 

Edith  had  listened  in  bewilderment  and  despair,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  his,  and  her  face  locked  and  rigid,  as  if 
turned  to  stone.  But  when  he  had  ceased,  and,  moving 
some  steps  away,  turned  aside  his  manly  countenance, 
that  Edith  might  not  perceive  its  anguish,  the  noble  and 
sublime  spirit  of  that  sex  which  ever,  when  lowliest,  most 
comprehends  the  lofty,  rose  superior  both  to  love  and  to 
grief;  and  rising,  she  advanced,  and  placing  her  slight 
hand  on  his  stalwart  shoulder,  she  said,  half  in  pity,  half 
in  reverence  — 

" Never  before,  O  Harold,  did  I  feel  so  proud  of  thee: 
for  Edith  could  lfot  love  thee  as  she  doth,  and  will  till 
the  grave  clasp  her,  if  thou  didst  not  love  England  more 


200  HAROLD. 

Jian  Edith.  Harold,  till  this  hour  I  was  a  child,  and  I 
knew  not  my  own  heart :  I  look  now  into  that  heart,  and 
I  see  that  I  am  woman.  Harold,  of  the  cloister  I  have 
now  no  fear :  and  all  life  does  not  shrink  —  no,  it  en- 
larges, and  it  soars  into  one  desire — to  be  worthy  to  pray 
for  thee  ! " 

"  Maid,  maid  ! n  exclaimed  Harold,  abruptly,  and  pale 
as  the  dead,  "  do  not  say  thou  hast  no  fear  of  the  cloister. 
I  adjure,  I  command  thee,  build  not  up  between  us  that 
dismal  everlasting  wall.  While  thou  art  free,  Hope  yet 
survives  —  a  phantom,  haply,  but  Hope  still." 

"As  thou  wilt,  I  will,"  said  Edith,  humbly:  "order 
my  fate  so  as  pleases  thee  the  best." 

Then,  not  daring  to  trust  herself  longer,  for  she  felt 
the  tears  rushing  to  her  eyes,  she  turned  away  hastily, 
and  left  him  alone  beside  the  altar-stone  and  the  tomb, 


CHAPTER  Y. 

The  next  day,  as  Harold  was  entering  the  palace  of 
Westminster,  with  intent  to  seek  the  king's  lady,  his 
father  met  him  in  one  of  the  corridors,  and  taking  him 
gravely  by  the  hand,  said  — 

"  My  son,  I  have  mnch  on  my  mind  regarding  thee  and 
our  House;  come  with  me." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Earl,  "  by  your  leave  let  it  be  later. 
For  I  have  it  on  hand  to  see  my  sistef,  ere  confessor,  or 
monk,  or  schoolman,  claim  her  hours  ! " 


HAROLD.  201 

"Not  so,  Harold,"  said  the  Earl,  briefly.  "My 
daughter  is  now  in  her  oratory,  and  we  shall  have  time 
enow  to  treat  of  things  mundane  ere  she  is  free  to  receive 
thee,  and  to  preach  to  thee  of  things  ghostly,  the  last 
miracle  at  St.  Alban's,  or  the  last  dream  of  the  king,  who 
would  be  a  great  man  and  a  stirring,  if  as  restless  when 
awake  as  he  is  in  his  sleep.     Come." 

Harold,  in  that  filial  obedience  which  belonged,  as  of 
course,  to  his  antique  cast  of  character,  made  no  farther 
effort  to  escape,  but  with  a  sigh  followed  Godwin  into 
one  of  the  contiguous  chambers. 

"Harold,"  then  said  Earl  Godwin,  after  closing  the 
door  carefully,  "thou  must  not  let  the  king  keep  thee 
longer  in  dalliance  and  idleness  :  thine  earldom  needs 
thee  without  delay.  Thou  knowest  that  these  East 
Angles,  as  we  Saxons  still  call  them,  are  in  truth  mostly 
Danes  and  Norsemen  ;  a  people  jealous  and  fierce,  and 
free,  and  more  akin  to  the  Normans  than  to  the  Saxons. 
My  whole  power  in  England  hath  been  founded,  not  less 
on  my  common  birth  with  the  freefolk  of  Wessex — Saxons 
like  myself,  and  therefore  easy  for  me,  a  Saxon,  to  con- 
ciliate and  control — than  on  the  hold  I  have  ever  sought 
to  establish,  whether  by  arms  or  by  arts,  over  the  Danes 
in  the  realm.  And  I  tell  and  I  warn  thee,  Harold,  as 
the  natural  heir  of  my  greatness,  that  he  who  cannot 
command  the  stout  hearts  of  the  Anglo-Danes,  will  never 
maintain  the  race  of  Godwin  in  the  post  they  have. won 
in  the  van-guard  of  Saxon  England." 

"  This  I  wot  well,  my  father,"  answered  Harold  ;  "  and 
17* 


202  HAROLD. 

I  see  with  joy,  that  while  those  descendants  of  heroes  and 
freemen  are  blended  indissolubly  with  the  meeker  Saxon, 
their  freer  laws  and  hardier  manners  are  gradually  sup- 
planting, or  rather  regenerating,  our  own.1' 

Godwin  smiled  approvingly  on  his  son,  and  then  his 
brow  becoming  serious,  and  the  dark  pupil  of  his  blue 
eye  dilating,  he  resumed  : 

"  This  is  well,  my  son  ;  and  hast  thou  thought  also, 
that  while  thou  art  loitering  in  these  galleries,  amidst  the 
ghosts  of  men  in  monk  cowls,  Siward  is  shadowing  our 
House  with  his  glory,  and  all  north  the  Humber  rings 
with  his  name  ?  Hast  thou  thought  that  all  Mercia  is  in 
the  hands  of  Leofric  our  rival,  and  that  Algar  his  son, 
who  ruled  Wessex  in  my  absence,  left  there  a  name  so 
beloved,  that  had  I  stayed  a  year  longer,  the  cry  had 
been  *  Algar'  not  'Godwin?'  —  for  so  is  the  multitude 
ever!  Now  aid  me,  Harold,  for' my  soul  is  troubled, 
and  I  cannot  work  alone  ;  and  though  I  say  nought  to 
others,  my  heart  received  a  death-blow  when  tears  fell 
from  its  blood-springs  on  the  brow  of  Sweyn,  my  first- 
born."    The  old  man  paused,  and  his  lip  quivered. 

"Thou,  thou  alone,  Harold  noble  boy,  thou  alone 
didst  stand  by  his  side  in  the  hall ;  alone,  alone,  and  T 
blessed  thee  in  that  hour  over  all  the  rest  of  my  sons. 
Well,  well !  now  to  earth  again.  Aid  me,  Harold.  I 
open  to  thee  my  web  :  complete  the  woof  when  this  hand 
is  cold.  The  new  tree  that  stands  alone  in  the  plain  is 
soon  nipped  by  the  winter ;  fenced  round  with  the  forest, 


HAROLD.  203 

its  youth  takes  shelter  from  its  fellows.*  So  is  it  with 
a  house  newly  founded  ;  it  must  win  strei.gth  from  the 
allies  that  it  sets  round  its  slender  stem.  What  had 
been  Godwin,  son  of  Wolnoth,  had  he  not  married  into 
the  kingly  house  of  great  Canute  ?  It  is  this  that  gives 
my  sons  now  the  right  to  the  loyal  love  of  the  Danes. 
The  throne  passed  from  Canute  and  his  race,  and  the 
Saxons  again  had  their  hour ;  and  I  gave,  as  Jephtha 
gave  his  daughter,  my  blooming  Edith,  to  the  cold  bed 
of  the  Saxon  King.  Had  sons  sprung  from  that  union, 
the  grandson  of  Godwin,  royal  alike  from  Saxon  and 
Dane,  wTould  reign  on  the  throne  of  the  isle.  Fate 
ordered  otherwise,  and  the  spider  must  weave  web  anew. 
Thy  brother,  Tostig,  has  added  more  splendor  than  solid 
strength  to  our  line,  in  his  marriage  with  the  daughter 
of  Baldwin  the  Count.  The  foreigner  helps  us  little  in 
England.  Thou,  0  Harold,  must  bring  new  props  to 
the  House.  I  would  rather  see  thee  wed  to  the  child  of 
one  of  our  great  rivals  than  to  the  daughter  of  kaisar,  or 
outland  king.  Siward  hath  no  daughter  undisposed  of. 
Algar,  son  of  Leofric,  hath  a  daughter  fair  as  the  fairest ; 
make  her  thy  bride,  that  Algar  may  cease  to  be  a  foe. 
This  alliance  will  render  Mercia,  in  truth,  subject  to  our 
principalities,  since  the  stronger  must  quell #the  weaker. 
It  doth  more.  Algar  himself  has  married  into  the 
royalty  of  Wales,  f     Thou  wilt  win  all  those  tierce  tribes 

*  T  r  i  g  n  er'  s  Frilhiof. 

f  Some  of  the  chroniclers  say  that  he  married  the  daughter  of 
Gryffyth,  the  king  of  North  Wales,  but  GryfFyth  certainly  married 


204  HAROLD. 

to  thy  side.  Their  forces  will  gain  thee  the  marches, 
now  held  so  freely  under  Rolf  the  Norman,  and  in  case 
of  brief  reverse,  or  sharp  danger,  their  mountains  will 
give  refuge  from  all  foes.  This  day,  greeting  Algar,  he 
told  me  he  meditated  bestowing  his  daughter  on  Gryffyth, 
the  rebel  under-King  of  North  Wales.  Therefore,"  con- 
tinued the  old  Earl,  with  a  smile,  "thou  must  speak  in 
time,  and  win  and  woo  in  the  same  breath.  No  hard 
task,  methinks,  for  Harold  of  the  golden  tongue." 

"  Sir,  and  father,"  replied  the  young  Earl,  whom  the 
long  speech  addressed  to  him  had  prepared  for  its  close, 
and  whose  habitual  self-control  saved  him  from  disclosing 
his  emotion,  "I  thank  you  duteously,  for  your  care  foi 
my  future,  and  hope  to  profit  by  your  wisdom.  I  will 
ask  the  king's  leave  to  go  to  my  East  Anglians,  and  hold 
there  a  folkmuth,  administer  justice,  redress  grievances, 
and  make  thegn  and  ceorl  content  with  Harold,  their 
earl.  But  vain  is  peace  in  the  realm,  if  there  is  strife  in 
the  house.  And  Aldyth,  the  daughter  of  Algar,  cannot 
be  house-wife  to  me." 

"Why?"  asked  the  old  Earl,  calmly,  and  surveying 
his  son's  face,  with  those  eyes  so  clear  yet  so  unfathom- 
able 

"Because,  though  I  grant  her  fair,  she  pleases  not  my 
fancy,  nor  would  give  warmth  to  my  hearth.  Because, 
as  thou  knowest  well,  Algar  and  I  have  ever  been  op- 


Algar's  daughter,  and  that  double  alliance  could  not  have  been 
permitted.  It  was  probably,  therefore,  some  more  distant  kins- 
woman of  Gryffyth's  that  was  united  to  Algar. 


HAROLD.  205 

posed,  both  in  camp  and  in  council;  and  I  am  not  the 
man  who  can  sell  my  love,  though  I  may  stifle  my  anger. 
Earl  Harold  needs  no  bride  to  bring  spearmen  to  his 
back  at  his  need  ;  and  his  lordships  he  will  guard  with 
the  shield  of  a  man,  not  the  spindle  of  a  woman." 

11  Said  in  spite  and  in  error,"  replied  the  old  Earl 
coolly.  "  Small  pain  had  it  given  thee  to  forgive  Algar 
old  quarrels,  and  clasp  his  hand  as  a  father-in-law  —  if 
thou  hadst  had  for  his  daughter  what  the  great  are  for- 
bidden to  regard  save  as  a  folly." 

"Is  love  a  folly,  my  father?" 

"Surely,  yes,"  said  the  Earl,  with  some  sadness  — 
"surely,  yes,  for  those  who  know  that  life  is  made  up  of 
business  and  care,  spun  out  in  long  years,  not  counted  by 
the  joys  of  an  hour.  Surely,  yes  ;  thinkest  thou  that  I 
loved  ray  first  wife,  the  proud  sister  of  Canute,  or  that 
Edith,  thy  sister,  loved  Edward,  when  he  placed  the 
crown  on  her  head?" 

"  My  father,  in  Edith,  my  sister,  our  House  hath  sacri- 
ficed enow  to  selfish  power." 

"I  grant  it,  to  selfish  power,"  answered  the  eloquent 
old  man,  "but  not  enow  for  England's  safety.  Look  to 
it,  Harold  ;  thy  years,  and  thy  fame,  and  thy  state,  place 
thee  free  from  my  control  as  a  father,  but  not  till  thou 
slecpest  in  thy  cerements  art  thou  free  from  that  father — 
thy  land!  Ponder  it  in  thine  own  wise  mind  —  wiser 
already  than  that  which  speaks  to  it  under  the  hood  of 
grey  hairs.  Ponder  it,  and  ask  thyself  if  thy  power, 
when  T  am  dead,  is  not  necessary  to  the  weal  of  England ; 

I.— 18 


206  HAROLD. 

and  if  aught  that  thy  schemes  can  suggest,  would  so 
strengthen  that  power,  as  to  find  in  the  heart  of  the  king- 
dom a  host  of  friends  like  the  Mercians;  —  or  if  there 
could  be  a  trouble,  and  a  bar  to  thy  greatness,  a  wall  in 
thy  path,  or  a  thorn  in  thy  side,  like  the  hate  or  the 
jealousy  of  Algar,  the  son  of  Leofric  ?  " 

Thus  addressed,  Harold's  face,  before  serene  and  calm, 
grew  overcast ;  and  he  felt  the  force  of  his  father's  words 
when  appealing  to  his  reason — not  to  his  affections.  The 
old  man  saw  the  advantage  he  had  gained,  and  prudently 
forbore  to  press  it.  Rising,  he  drew  round  him  his  sweep- 
ing gonna  lined  with  furs,  and  only  when  he  reached  the 
door,  he  added  :  — 

"  The  old  see  afar;  they  stand  on  the  height  of  ex- 
perience, as  a  warder  on  the  crown  of  a  tower ;  and  I 
tell  thee,  Harold,  that  if  thou  let  slip  this  golden  occa- 
sion, years  hence — long  and  many— thou  wilt  rue  the  loss 
of  the  hour.  And  that,  unless  Mercia,  as  the  centre  of 
the  kingdom,  be  reconciled  to  thy  power,  thou  wilt  stand 
high  indeed — but  on.  the  shelf  of  a  precipice.  And  if,  as 
I  suspect,  thou  lovest  some  other,  who  now  clouds  thy 
perception,  and  will  then  check  thy  ambition,  thou  wilt 
break  her  heart  with  thy  desertion,  or  gnaw  thine  own 
with  regret.  For  love  dies  in  possession  —  ambition  has 
no  fruition,  and  so  lives  for  ever." 

"That  ambition  is  not  mine,  my  father,"  exclaimed 
Harold  earnestly  ;  "  I  have  not  thy  love  of  power,  glori- 
ous in  thee,  even  in  its  extremes.  «  I  have  not  thy " 

"  Seventy  years  !  "  interrupted  the  old  man,  concluding 


HAROLD.  207 

the  sentence.  "At  seventy,  all  men  who  have  been  great 
will  speak  as  I  do  ;  yet  all  will  have  known  love.  Thou 
not  ambitious,  Harold  ?  Thou  knowest  not  thyself,  nor 
knowest  thou  yet  what  ambition  is.  That  which  I  see 
far  before  me  as  thy  natural  prize,  I  dare  not,  or  I  will 
not  say.  When  time  sets  that  prize  within  reach  of  thy 
spear's  point,  say  then,  '  I  am  not  ambitious  ! !  Ponder 
and  decide." 

And  Harold  pondered  long,  and  decided  not  as  God- 
win could  have  wished.  For  he  had  not  the  seventy 
years  of  his  father,  and  the  prize  lay  yet  in  the  womb  of 
the  mountains ;  though  the  dwarf  and  the  gnome  were 
already  fashioning  the  ore  to  the  shape  of  a  crown. 


CHAPTER  TI. 

While  Harold  mused  over  his  father's  words,  Edith, 
seated  on  a  low  stool  beside  the  Lady  of  England,  listened 
with  earnest  but  mournful  reverence  to  her  royal  name- 
sake. 

The  queen's  *  closet  opened  like  the  king's,  on  one 
hand  to  an  oratory,  on  the  other  to  a  spacious  ante-room  ; 
the  lower  part  of  the  walls  was  covered  with  arras,  leav- 

*  The  title  of  queen  is  employed  in  these  pages,  as  one  which 
our  historians  have  unhesitatingly  given  to  the  consorts  of  our 
Saxon  kings;  but  the  usual  and  correct  designation  of  Edward'* 
royal  wife,  in  her  own  time,  would  be,  Edith  the  Lady. 


208  HAROLD. 

ing  space  for  a  niche  that  contained  an  image  of  the 
Virgin.  Near  the  doorway  to  the  oratory,  was  the  stoupe 
or  aspersorium  for  holy-water  ;  and  in  various  cysts  and 
crypts,  in  either  room,  were  caskets  containing  the  relics 
of  saints.  The  purple  light  from  the  stained  glass  of  a 
high  narrow  window,  shaped  in  the  Saxon  arch,  streamed 
rich  and  full  over  the  queen's  bended  head  like  a  glory, 
and  tinged  her  pale  cheek,  as  with  a  maiden  blush  ;  and 
she  might  have  furnished  a  sweet  model  for  early  artist, 
in  his  dreams  of  St.  Mary  the  Mother,  not  when,  young 
and  blest,  she  held  the  divine  Infant  in  her  arms,  but 
when  sorrow  had  reached  even  the  immaculate  bosom, 
and  the  stone  had  been  rolled  over  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
For  beautiful  the  face  still  was,  and  mild  beyond  all 
words ;  but,  beyond  all  words  also,  sad  in  its  tender  re- 
signation. 

And  thus  said  the  queen  to  her  godchild. 

11  Why  dost  thou  hesitate  and  turn  away  ?  Thinkest 
thou,  poor  child,  in  thine  ignorance  of  life,  that  the  world 
ever  can  give  thee  a  bliss  greater  than  the  calm  of  the 
cloister  ?  Pause,  and  ask  thyself,  young  as  thou  art,  if 
all  the  true  happiness  thou  hast  known  is  not  bounded 
to  hope.     As  long  as  thou  hopest,  thou  art  happy." 

Edith  sighed  deeply,  and  moved  her  young  head  in 
ictcluntary  acquiescence. 

"And  what  is  life  to  the  nun,  but  Hope  ?  In  that  hope 
she  knows  not  the  present,  she  lives  in  the  future  ;  she 
hears  ever  singing  the  chorus  of  the  angels,  as  St.  Dun- 


HAROLD.  209 

stan  heard  them  sing  at  the  birth  of  Edgar.*  That  hope 
unfolds  to  her  the  heiligthum  of  the  future.  On  earth 
her  body,  in  heaven  her  soul  ! " 

"And  her  heart,  0  Lady  of  England?"  cried  Edith, 
with  a  sharp  pang. 

The  queen  paused  a  moment,  and  laid  her  pale  hand 
kindly  on  Edith's  bosom. 

"  Not  beating,  child,  as  thine  does  now,  with  vain 
thoughts,  and  worldly  desires ;  but  calm,  calm  as  mine. 
It  is  in  our  power,"  resumed  the  queen,  after  a  second 
pause,  "  it  is  in  our  power  to  make  the  life  within  us  all 
soul,  so  that  the  heart  is  not,  or  is  felt  not ;  so  that  grief 
and  joy  have  no  power  over  us  ;  so  that  we  look  tranquil 
on  the  stormy  earth,  as  yon  image  of  the  Yirgin,  whom 
we  make  our  example,  looks  from  the  silent  niche.  Listen, 
my  godchild  and  darling. 

"I  have  known  human  state  and  human  debasement. 
In  these  halls  I  woke  Lady  of  England,  and  ere  sunset, 
my  husband  banished  me,  without  one  mark  of  honor, 
without  one  word  of  comfort,  to  the  convent  of  Wher- 
well ;  —  my  father,  my  mother,  my  kin,  all  in  exile  ;  and 
my  tears  falling  fast  for  them,  but  not  on  a  husband's 
bosom." 

"Ah,  then,  noble  Edith,"  said  the  girl,  coloring  with 
anger  at  the  remembered  wrong  for  her  queen,  "  ah,  then, 
surely  at  least  thy  heart  made  itself  heard." 

"Heard,  yea,  verily,"  said  the  queen,  looking  up,  and 


*  Ethel.  De.  Gen  Reg.  Ang. 

18*  o 


210  HAROLD. 

pressing  her  hands  ;   "  heard,  but  the   soul  rebuked  it 
And  the  soul  said,  •  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  ; '  and 
I  rejoiced  at  the  new  trial  which  brought  me  nearer  to 
Him  who  chastens  those  He  loves." 

"  But  thy  banished  kin  —  the  valiant,  the  wise  ;  they 
who  placed  thy  lord  on  the  throne  ?" 

u  Was  it  no  comfort,"  answered  the  queen,  simply,  "to 
think  that  in  the  House  of  God  my  prayers  for  them 
would  be  more  accepted  than  in  the  hall  of  kings  ?  Yes, 
my  child,  I  have  known  the  world's  honor,  and  the  world's 
disgrace,  and  I  have  schooled  my  heart  to  be  calm  in 
both." 

"Ah,  thou  art  above  human  strength,  Queen  and  Saint," 
exclaimed  Edith  ;  "  and  I  have  heard  it  said  of  thee,  that 
as  thou  art  now,  thou  wert  from  thine  earliest  years  ;  * 
ever  the  sweet,  the  calm,  the  holy  —  ever  less  on  earth 
than  in  heaven." 

Something  there  was  in  the  queen's  eyes,  as  she  raised 
them  towards  Edith  at  this  burst  of  enthusiasm,  that  gave 
for  a  moment,  to  a  face  otherwise  so  dissimilar,  the  like- 
ness to  her  father  ;  something,  in  that  large  pupil,  of  the 
impenetrable  unrevealing  depth  of  a  nature  close  and 
secret  in  self-control.  And  a  more  acute  observer  than 
Edith  might  long  have  been  perplexed  and  haunted  with 
that  look,  wondering,  if,  indeed,  under  the  divine  and 
spiritual  composure,  lurked  the  mystery  of  human  passion. 

"  My  child,"  said   the  queen,  with  the  faintest  smile 


Ailred,  Be  Vit.  Edward  Confess. 


HAROLD.  211 

opon  her  lips,  and  drawing  Edith  towards  her,  4<  there 
are  moments,  when  all  that  breathe  the  breath  of  life 
feel,  or  have  felt,  alike.  In  mj  vain  youth  I  read,  I  mused, 
I  pondered,  but  over  worldly  lore  ;  and  what  men  called 
the  sanctity  of  virtue,  was,  perhaps,  but  the  silence  of 
thought.  Now  I  have  put  aside  those  early  and  childish 
dreams  and  shadows,  remembering  them  not,  save  (here 
the  smile  grew  more  pronounced)  to  puzzle  some  poor 
school-boy  with  the  knots  andriddles  of  the  sharp  gram- 
marian :  *  but  not  to  speak  of  myself  have  I  sent  for 
thee.  Edith,  again  and  again,  solemnly  and  sincerely,  I 
pray  thee  to  obey  the  wish  of  my  lord  the  king.  And 
now,  while  yet  in  all  the  bloom  of  thought,  as  of  youth, 
while  thou  hast  no  memory  save  the  child's,  enter  on  the 
Realm  of  Peace." 

" 1  cannot,  I  dare  not,  I  cannot — ah,  ask  me  not,"  said 
poor  Edith,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Those  hands  the  queen  gently  withdrew ;  and  looking 

steadfastly  in  the  changeful   and   half-averted  face,  she 

said  mournfully,  "  Is  it  so,  my  godchild  ?  and  is  thy  heart 

set  on  the  hopes  of  earth  —  thy  dreams  on  the  love  of 

man  ?  " 

v 

"  Nay,"  answered  Edith,  equivocating ;  "  but  I  have 

promised  not  to  take  the  veil." 

"Promised  to  Hilda!" 

'Hilda,"  exclaimed  Edith  readily,  "would  never  con- 
sent to  it.  Thou  knowest  her  strong  nature,  her  distaste 
to —  to " 


*  Ingulfus. 


212  HAROLD. 

"The  laws  of  our  holy  Church  —  I  do;  and  for  that 
reason  it  is,  mainly,  that  I  join  with  the  King  in  seeking 
to  abstract  thee  from  her  influence  :  but  it  is  not  Hilda 
that  thou  hast  promised  ?  " 

Edith  hung  her  head. 

"  Is  it  to  woman  or  to  man  ? n 

Before  Edith  could  answer,  the  door  from  the  ante- 
room opened  gently,  but  without  the  usual  ceremony, 
and  Harold  entered.  His  quick,  quiet  eye,  embraced 
both  forms,  and  curbed  Edith's  young  impulse,  which 
made  her  start  from  her  seat,  and  advance  joyously  to- 
wards him  as  a  protector. 

"  Fair  day  to  thee,  my  sister,"  said  the  earl,  advancing  ; 
"  and  pardon,  if  I  break  thus  rudely  on  thy  leisure  ;  for 
few  are  the  moments  when  beggar  and  Benedictine  leave 
thee  free  to  receive  thy  brother." 

"Dost  thou  reproach  me,  Harold?" 

"  No,  Heaven  forfend  !  "  replied  the  earl,  cordially,  and 
with  a  look  at  once  of  pity  and  admiration;  "for  thou 
art  one  of  the  few,  in  this  court  of  simulators,  sincere 
and  true  ;  and  it  pleases  thee  to  serve  the  Divine  Power 
in  thy  way,  as  it  pleases  me  to  serve  Him  in  mine." 

"  Thine,  Harold  ?  "  said  the  queen,  shaking  her  head, 
bat  with  a  look  of  some  human  pride  and  fondness  in  her 
fair  face. 

11  Mine  :  as  I  learned  it  from  thee  when  I  was  thy  pupil, 
Edith ;  when  to  those  studies  in  which  thou  didst  precede 
me,  thou  first  didst  lure  me  from  sport  and  pastime  ;  and 
from  thee  I  learned  to  glow  over  the  deeds  of  Greek  and 


HAROLD.  213 

Roman,  and  say,  '  They  lived  and  died  as  men  ;  like  them 
may  I  live  and  die  ! '  " 

"Oh,  true  —  too  true!"  said  the  queen,  with  a  sigh; 
"  and  I  am  to  blame  grievously  that  I  did  so  pervert  to 
earth  a  mind  that  might  otherwise  have  learned  holier 
examples; — nay,  smile  not  with  that  hf  jghty  lip,  my 
brother  ;  for,  believe  me — yea,  believe  me — there  is  more 
true  valor  in  the  life  of  one  patient  martyr  than  in  the 
victories  of  Caesar,  or  even  the  defeat  of  Brutus." 

"It  may  be  so,"  replied  the  earl,  "but  out  of  the  same 
oak  we  carve  the  spear  and  the  cross ;  and  those  not 
worthy  to  hold  the  one,  may  yet  not  guiltily  wield  the 
other.  Each  to  his  path  of  life  —  and  mine  is  chosen." 
Then,  changing  his  voice,  with  some  abruptness,  he  said: 
"But  what  hast  thou  been  saying  to  thy  fair  godchild, 
that  her  cheek  is  pale,  and  her  eyelids  seem  so  heavy  ? 
Edith,  Edith,  my  sister,  beware  how  thou  shapest  the  lot 
of  the  martyr  without  the  peace  of  the  saint.  Had 
Algive  the  nun  been  wedded  to  Sweyn  our  brother,  Sweyn 
were  not  wending,  barefooted  and  forlorn,  to  lay  the 
wrecks  of  desolated  life  at  the  Holy  Tomb  " 

"  Harold,  Harold  ! "  faltered  the  queen,  much  struck 
with  his  words. 

"But,"  the  earl  continued  —  and  something  of  the 
pathos  which  belongs  to  deep  emotion  vibrated  in  the 
eloquent  voice,  accustomed  to  command  and  persuade  -— 
'*  we  strip  not  the  green  leaves  for  our  yule-hearths  — 
we  gather  them  up  when  dry  and  sere.  Leave  youth 
on  the  bough  —  let  the  bird  sing  to  it  —  let  it  play  free 


214  HAROLD. 

in  the  airs  of  heaven.  Smoke  comes  from  the  branch 
which,  cut  in  the  sap,  is  cast  upon  the  fire,  and  regret 
from  the  heart  which  is  severed  from  the  world  while  the 
world  is  in  its  May." 

The  queen  paced  slowly,  but  in  evident  agitation,  to 
and  fro  the  room,  and  her  hands  clasped  convulsively  the 
rosary  round  her  neck ;  then,  after  a  pause  of  thought, 
she  motioned  to  Edith,  and,  pointing  to  the  oratory,  said, 
with  forced  composure,  "  Enter  there,  and  there  kneel ; 
commune  with  thyself,  and  be  still.  Ask  for  a  sign  from 
above  —  pray  for  the  grace  within.  Go  ;  I  would  speak 
alone  with  Harold." 

Edith  crossed  her  arms  on  her  bosom  meekly,  and 
passed  into  the  oratory.  The  queen  watched  her  for  a 
few  moments,  tenderly,  as  the  slight,  child-like  form 
bent  before  the  sacred  symbol.  Then  she  closed  the 
door  gently,  and  coming  with  a  quick  step  to  Harold, 
said,  in  a  low,  but  clear  voice,  "Dost  thou  love  the 
maiden  ?" 

"Sister,"  answered  the  earl,  sadly,  "  I  love  her  as  a 
man  should  love  woman  —  more  than  my  life,  but  less 
than  the  ends  life  lives  for." 

"Oh,  world,  world,  world  !"^ried  the  queen,  passion- 
ately, "not  even  to  thine  own  objects  art  thou  true.  O 
tforld  !  0  world  !  thou  desirest  happiness  below,  and  at 
every  turn,  with  every  vanity,  thou  tramplest  happiness 
under  foot !  Yes,  yes  ;  they  said  to  me,  '  For  the  sake 
of  our  greatness,  thou  shalt  wed  King  Edward/  And  I 
live  in  the  eyes  that  loathe  me  —  and  —  and "     The 


HAROLT  215 

queen,  as  if  conscience-stricken,  paused  aghast,  kissed 
devoutJy  the  relic  suspended  to  her  rosary,  and  continued, 
with  such  calmness,  that  it  seemed  as  if  two  women  were 
blent  in  one,  so  startling  was  the  contrast.  "And  I  have 
had  my  reward,  but  not  from  the  world  !  Even  so,  Harold 
the  Earl,  and  EarPs  son,  thou  lovest  yon  fair  child,  and 
she  thee  ;  and  ye  might  be  happy,  if  happiness  were 
earth's  end  ;  but,  though  high-born,  and  of  fair  temporal 
possessions,  she  brings  thee  not  lands  broad  enough  for 
her  dowry,  nor  troops  of  kindred  to  swell  thy  lithsmen, 
and  she  is  not  a  mark-stone  in  thy  march  to  ambition  : 
and  so  thou  lovest  her  as  man  loves  woman  —  Mess  than 
the  en.ds  life  lives  for  ! ' " 

"  Sister,"  said  Harold,  "  thou  speakest  as  I  love  to 
hear  thee  speak  —  as  my  bright-eyed,  rose-lipped  sister 
spoke  in  the  days  of  old  ;  thou  speakest  as  a  woman  with  a 
warm  heart,  and  not  as  the  mummy  in  the  stiff  cerements 
of  priestly  form  ;  and  if  thou  art  with  me,  and  thou  wilt 
give  me  countenance,  I  will  marry  thy  godchild,  and  save 
her  alike  from  the  dire  superstitions  of  Hilda,  and  the 
grave  of  the  abhorrent  convent." 

"But  my  father  —  my  father  !  "  cried  the  queen  ;  "  who 
ever  bended  that  soul  of  steel  ? " 

"  It  is  not  my  father  I  fear ;  it  is  thee  and  thy  monks. 
Forgettest  thou  that  Edith  and  I  are  within  the  six- 
banned  degrees  of  the  Church  ?  " 

"  True,  most  true,"  said  the  queen,  with  a  look  of 
great   terror;    "I   had    forgotten.     Avaunt,    the    very 


216  HAROLD. 

thought!  Pray  —  fast  —  banish  it  —  my  poor,  poor 
brother!"  and  she  kissed,  his  brow. 

"  So,  there  fades  the  woman,  and  the  mummy  speaks 
again  !  "  said  Harold,  bitterly.  "  Be  it  so  ;  I  bow  to  my 
doom.  Well,  there  may  be  a  time,  when  Nature,  on  the 
throne  of  England,  shall  prevail  over  Priestcraft ;  and, 
in  guerdon  for  all  my  services,  I  wiji  then  ask  a  king  who 
hath  blood  in  his  veins,  to  win  me  the  Pope's  pardon  and 
benison.  Leave  me  that  hope,  my  sister,  and  leave  thy 
godchild  on  the  shores  of  the  living  world." 

The  queen  made  no  answer ;  and  Harold,  auguring  ill 
from  her  silence,  moved  on  and  opened  the  door  of  the 
oratory.  But  the  image  that  there  met  him,  that  figure 
still  kneeling,  those  eyes,  so  earnest  in  the  tears  that 
streamed  from  them  fast  and  unheeded,  fixed  on  the  holy 
rood — awed  his  step  and  checked  his  voice.  Nor  till  the 
girl  had  risen,  did  he  break  silence ;  then  he  said,  gently, 
"My  sister  will  press  thee  no  more,  Edith — " 

"I  say  not  that!"  exclaimed  the  queen. 

"  Or  if  she  doth,  remember  thy  plighted  promise  under 
the  wide  cope  of  blue  heaven,  the  old  uv  least  holy 
temple  of  our  common  Father  ! " 

With  these  words  he  lef*  the  tqwcl 


HAROLD.  2H 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Harold  passed  into  the  queen's  ante-chamber.  Here 
the  attendance  was  small  and  select  compared  with  the 
crowds  which  we  shall  see  presently  in  the  ante-room  to 
the  king's  closet:  for  here  came  chiefly  the  more  learned 
ecclesiastics,  attracted  instinctively  by  the  queen's  own 
mental  culture,  and  few  indeed  were  they  at  that  day 
(perhaps  the  most  illiterate  known  in  England  since  the 
death  of  Alfred  ;  *)  and  here  came  not  the  tribe  of  im- 
postors, and  the  relic-venders,  whom  the  infantine  sim- 
plicity and  lavish  waste  of  the  Confessor  attracted.  Some 
four  or  five  priests  and  monks,  some  lonely  widow,  some 
orphan  child,  humble  worth,  or  unprotected  sorrow,  made 
the  noiseless  levee  of  the  sweet  sad  queen. 

The  groups. turned,  with  patient  eyes,  towards  the  earl 
as  he  emerged  from  that  chamber,  which  it  was  rare  in- 
deed to  quit  unconsoled,  and  marvelled  at  the  flush  in 
his  cheek,  and  the  disquiet  on  his  brow ;  but  Harold  was 
dear  to  the  clients  of  his  sister ;  for,  despite  his  supposed 
in  difference  to  the  mere  priestly  virtues  (if  virtues  we  call 

*  The  clergy  (says  Malmesbury),  contented  with  a  very  slight 
share  of  leaning  could  scarcely  stammer  out  the  words  of  the 
sacraments;  and  a  person  who  understood  grammar  was  an  object 
of  wonder  and  astonishment.  Other  authorities  likely  to  be  im- 
partial, speak  quite  as  strongly  as  to  the  prevalent  ignorance  of 
the  time. 

I.  — 19 


218  HAROLD. 

them)  of  the  decrepit  time,  his  intellect  was  respected  by 
yon  learned  ecclesiastics ;  and  his  character,  as  the  foe 
of  all  injustice,  and  the  fosterer  of  all  that  were  desolate, 
was  known  to  yon  pale-eyed  widow,  and  yon  trembling 
orphan. 

In  the  atmosphere  of  that  quiet  assembly,  the  eaf 
seemed  to  recover  his  kindly  temperament,  and  he  paused 
to  address  a  friendly  or  a  soothing  word  to  each  ;  so  that 
when  he  vanished,  the  hearts  there  felt  more-  light-,  and 
the  silence,  hushed  before  his  entrance,  was  broken  by 
many  whispers  in  praise  of  the  good  earl. 

Descending  a  staircase  without  the  walls  —  as  even  in 
royal  halls  the  principal  staircases  were  then  —  Harold 
gained  a  wide  court,  in  which  loitered  several  house 
carles,*  and  attendants,  whether  of  the  king  or  the 
visitors  ;  and  reaching  the  entrance  of  the  palace,  took 
his  way  towards  the  king's  rooms,  which  lay  near,  and 
round,,  what  is  now  called  "  The  Painted  Chamber," 
then  used  as  a  bed-room  by  Edward  on  state  occasions. 

And  now  he  entered  the  ante-chamber  of  his  royal 
brother-in-law.  Crowded  it  was,  but  rather  seemed  it 
the  hall  of  a  convent  than  the  ante-room  of  a  king. 
Monks,  pilgrims,  priests,  met  his  eyes  in  every  nook  ;  and 
not  there  did  the  earl  pause  to  practise  the  arts  of  popular 


*  House  carles  in  the  royal  court  were  the  body-guard,  mostly, 
if  not  all,  of  Danish  origin.  They  appear  to  have  been  first  formed, 
ar  at  least  employed,  in  that  capacity  by  Canute.  "With  the  great 
earls,  the  house  carles  probably  exercised  the  same  functions,  but 
in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  word  in  families  of  »ower  rank, 
house  carle  was  a  domestic  servant. 


HAROLD.  219 

favor.  Passing  erect  through  the  midst,  he  beckoned 
forth  the  officer,  in  attendance  at  the  extreme  end,  who, 
after  an  interchange  of  whispers,  ushered  him  into  the 
royal  presence.  The  monks  and  the  priests,  gazing  to- 
wards the  door  which  had  closed  on  his  stately  form,  said 
to  each  other : — 

"  The  king's  Norman  favorites  at  least  honored  the 
Church." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  an  abbot ;  u  and  an'  it  were  not 
for  two  things,  I  should  love  the  Norman  better  than  the 
Saxon." 

"  What  are  they,  my  father  ?"  asked  an  aspiring  young 
monk. 

"Inprinis"  quoth  the  abbot,  proud  of  the  one  Latin 
word  he  thought  he  knew,  but  that,  as  we  see,  was  an 
error;  "they  cannot  speak  so  as  to  be  understood,  and  I 
fear  me  much  they  incline  to  mere  carnal  learning." 

Here  there  was  a  sanctified  groan  :  — 

r1  Count  William  himself  spoke  to  me  in  Latin  ! "  con- 
tinued the  abbot,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"Did  he?  —  Wonderful!"  exclaimed  several  voices. 
"And  what  did  you  answer,  holy  father?" 

"Marry,"  said  the  abbot,  solemnly,  "I  replied,  'Jn- 
prinis.' " 

"  Good  ! "  said  the  young  monk,  with  a  look  of  pro- 
found admiration. 

"  Whereat  the  good  Count  looked  puzzled — as  I  meant 
him  to  be:  —  a  heinous  fault,  and  one  intolerant  to  the 
clergy,  that  love  of  profane   tongues  !     And   the  next 


220  HAROLD. 

thing  against  your  Norman  is  (added  the  abbot,  with  a 
sly  wink),  that  he  is  a  close  man,  who  loves  not  his 
stoup  :  now,  I  say,  that  a  priest  never  had  more  hold 
over  a  sinner  than  when  he  makes  the  sinner  open  his 
heart  to  him." 

"  That's  clear  !  "  said  a  fat  priest,  with  a  lubricate  and 
shining  nose. 

"And  how,"  pursued  the  abbot  triumphantly,  "can  a 
sinner  open  his  heavy  heart  until  you  have  given  him 
something  to  lighten  it  ?  Oh,  many  and  many  a  wretched 
man  have  I  comforted  spiritually  over  a  flagon  of  stout 
ale  !  and  many  a  good  legacy  to  the  Church  hath  come 
out  of  a  friendly  wassail  between  watchful  shepherd  and 
strayed  sheep!  But  what  hast  thou  there?"  resumed 
the  abbot,  turning  to  a  man,  clad  in  the  lay  garb  of  a 
burgess  of  London,  who  had  just  entered  the  room, 
followed  by  a  youth  bearing  what  seemed  a  coffer,  covered 
with  a  fine  linen  cloth. 

V  Holy  father  ! "  said  the  burgess,  wiping  his  forehead, 
"it  is  a  treasure  so  great,  that  I  trow  Hugoline,  the 
king's  treasurer,  will  scowl  at  me  for  a  year  to  come,  for 
he  likes  to  keep  his  own  grip  on  the  king's  gold  ! " 

At  this  indiscreet  observation,  the  abbot,  the  monks, 
and  all  the  priestly  by-standers,  looked  grim  and  gloomy, 
for  each  had  his  own  special  design  upon  the  peace  of 
poor  Hugoline,  the  treasurer,  and  liked  not  to  see  him 
the  prey  of  a  layman. 

"Inprinisf"  quoth  the  abbot,  puffing  out  the  word 
with  great  scorn  ;  "  thinkest  thou,  son  of  Mammon,  that 


HAROLD.  221 

our  good  king  sets  his  pious  heart  on  gewgaws,  and 
gems,  and  such  vanities  ?  Thou  shouldst  take  the  gooda 
to  Count  Baldwin  of  Flanders ;  or  Tostig,  the  proud 
earPs  proud  son." 

"  Marry!"  said  the  cheapman,  with  a  smile;  "my 
treasure  will  find  small  price  with  Baldwin  the  scoffer, 
and  Tostig  the  vain  !  Nor  need  ye  look  at  me  so  sternly, 
my  fathers ;  but  rather  vie  with  each  other  who  shall  win 
this  wonder  of  wonders  for  his  own  convent ;  know,  in  a 
word,  that  it  is  the  right  thumb  of  St.  Jude,  which  a 
worthy  man  bought  at  Rome  for  me,  for  3,000  lb.  weight 
of  silver ;  and  I  ask  but  500  lb.  over  the  purchase  for  my 
pains  and  my  fee."* 

"  Humph  !  "  said  the  abbot. 

"  Humph  !"  said  the  aspiring  young  monk:  the  rest 
gathered  wistfully  round  the  linen  cloth. 

A  fiery  exclamation  of  wrath  and  disdain  was  here 
heard  :  and  all  turning,  saw  a  tall,  fierce-looking  thegn, 
who  had  found  his  way  into  that  group,  like  a  hawk  in  a 
rookery. 

"Dost  thou  tell  me,  knave,"  quoth  the  thegn,  in  a 
dialect  that  bespoke  him  a  Dane  by  origin,  with  the 
broad  burr  still  retained  in  the  north;  "Dost  thou  tell 
me  that  the  king  will  waste  his  gold  on  such  fooleries, 
while  the  fort  built  by  Canute  at  the  flood  of  the  Humber 

*■  This  was  cheap,  for  Agelnoth,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  gavo 
the  Pope  6,000  lb.  weight  of  silver  for  the  arm  of  St.  Augustine. — 
Malmesbury. 

19* 


222  HAROLD. 

is  ail  fallen  into  ruin,  without  a  man  in  steel  jacket  to 
keep  watch  on  the  war  fleets  of  Swede  and  Norwegian  ?" 

"Worshipful  minister,"  replied  the  cheapman,  with 
some  slight  irony  in  his  tone ;  "  these  reverend  fathers 
will  tell  thee  that  the  thumb  of  St.  Jude  is  far  better  aid 
against  Swede  and  Norwegian  than  forts  of  stone  and 
jackets  of  steel :  nathless,  if  thou  wantest  jackets  of  steel, 
I  have  some  to  sell  at  a  fair  price,  of  the  last  fashion, 
and  helms  with  long  nose-pieces,  as  are  worn  by  the 
Normans." 

"  The  thumb  of  a  withered  old  saint,"  cried  the  Dane, 
not  heeding  the  last  words,  "  more  defence  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Humber  than  crenellated  castles,  and  mailed  men  !  " 

"  Surely,  naught  son,"  said  the  abbot,  looking  shocked, 
and  taking  part  with  the  cheapman.  "Dost  thou  not 
remember  that,  in  the  pious  and  famous  council  of  1014, 
it  was  decreed  to  put  aside  all  weapons  of  flesh  against 
thy  heathen  countrymen,  and  depend  alone  on  St.  Michael 
to  fight  for  us  ?  Thinkest  thou  that  the  saint  would  ever 
suffer  his  holy  thumb  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Gen- 
tiles ?  —  never  !  Go  to,  thou  art  not  fit  to  have  conduct 
of  the  king's  wars.  Go  to,  and  repent,  my  son,  or  the 
king  shall  hear  of  it." 

"Ah,  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing!"  muttered  the  Dane, 
turning  on  his  heel ;  "  if  thy  monastery  were  but  built  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Humber  ! " 

The  cheapman  heard  him,  and  smiled.  While  such 
the  scene  in  the  ante-room,  we  follow  Harold  into  the 
king's  presence. 


HAROLD.  223 

On  entering,  he  found  there  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life 
and,  though  richly  clad,  in  embroidered  gonna,  and  with 
gilt  ateghar  at  his  side,  still  with  the  loose  robe,  the 
long  moustache,  and  the  skin  of  the  throat  and  right 
hand  punctured  with  characters  and  devices,  which  proved 
his  adherence  to  the  fashions  of  the  Saxon.*  And 
Harold's  eye  sparkled,  for  in  this  guest  he  recognized  the 
father  of  Aldyth,  Earl  Algar,  son  of  Leofric.  The  two 
nobles  exchanged  grave  salutations,  and  each  eyed  the 
other  wistfully. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  was  striking.  The 
Danish  race  were  men  generally  of  larger  frame  and 
grander  mould  than  the  Saxon  ;  f  and  though  in  all  else, 
as  to  exterior,  Harold  was  eminently  Saxon,  yet  in 
common  with  his  brothers,  he  took  from  the  mother's 
side  the  lofty  air  and  iron  frame  of  the  old  kings  of  the 
sea.  But  Algar,  below  the  middle  height,  though  well 
set,  was  slight  in  comparison  with  Harold.  His  strength 
was  that  which  men  often  take  rather  from  the  nerve  than 
the  muscle  :  a  strength  that  belongs  to  quick  tempers  and 
restless  energies.    His  light-blue  eye  singularly  vivid  and 

*  William  of  Malmesbury  says,  that  the  English,  at  the  time  of 
the  Conquest,  loaded  their  arms  with  gold  bracelets,  and  adorned 
ther  skins  with  punctured  designs,  i.e.  a  sort  of  tattooing.  He 
saya  that  they  then  wore  short  garments,  reaching  to  the  mid-knee  ; 
but  that  was  a  Norman  fashion,  and  the  loose  robes  assigned  in  the 
"text  to  Algar,  were  the  old  Saxon  fashion,  which  made  but  little 
distin3tion  between  the  dress  of  women  and  that  of  men. 

|  And  in  England,  to  this  day,  the  descendants  of  the  Anglo- 
Danes,  in  Cumberland  and  Yorkshire,  are  still  a  taller  and  bonier 
race  than  those  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  as  in  Surrey  and  Sussex. 


224  iiarold. 

glittering  ;  his  quivering  lip  ;  the  veins  swelling  at  each 
emotion,  on  the  fair  white  temples ;  the  long  yellow  hair, 
bright  as  gold,  and  resisting  in  its  easy  curls,  all  attempts 
to  curb  it  into  the  smooth  flow  most  in  fashion  ;  the 
nervous  movements  of  the  gesture  ;  the  somewhat  sharp 
and  hasty  tones  of  the  voice  ;  all  opposed,  as  much  as  if 
the  two  men  were  of  different  races,  the  steady  deep  eyes 
of  Harold,  his  composed  mien,  sweet  and  majestic,  his 
decorous  locks  parted  on  the  king-like  front,  with  their 
large  single  curl,  where  they  touched  the  shoulder.  In- 
telligence and  will  were  apparent  in  both  the  men  ;  but 
the  intelligence  of  one  was  acute  and  rapid,  that  of  the 
other  profound  and  steadfast ;  the  will  of  one  broke  in 
flashes  of  lightning,  that  of  the  other  was  calm  as  the 
summer  sun  at  noon. 

'?  Thou  art  welcome,  Harold,"  said  the  king,  with  less 
than  his  usual  listlessness,  and  with  a  look  of  relief,  as 
the  earl  approached  him. 

"  Our  good  Algar  comes  to  us  with  a  suit  well  worthy 
consideration,  though  pressed  somewhat  hotly,  and 
evincing  too  great  a  desire  for  goods  worldly ;  contrast- 
ing in  this  his  most  laudable  father,  our  well-beloved 
Leofric,  who  spends  his  substance  in  endowing  monas- 
teries, and  dispensing  alms  ;  wherefor  he  shall  receive  a 
hundred-fold  in  the  treasure-house  above." 

"  A  good  interest,  doubtless,  my  lord  the  king,"  said 
Algar,  quickly,  "  but  one  that  is  not  paid  to  his  heirs ; 
and  the  more  need,  if  my  father  (whom  I  blame  not  for 
doing  as  he  lists  with  his  own)  gives  all  he  hath  to  the 


HAROLD.  225 

monks  —  the  more  need,  I  say,  to  take  care  that  his  son 
shall  be  enabled  to  follow  his  example.  As  it  is,  most 
noble  king,  I  fear  me  that  Algar,  son  of  Leofric,  will  have 
nothing  to  give.  In  brief,  Earl  Harold,''  continued 
Algar,  turning  to  his  fellow  thegn  —  "in  brief,  thus 
stands  the  matter.  When  our  lord  the  king  was  first 
graciously  pleased  to  consent  to  rule  in  England,  the  two 
chiefs  who  most  assured  his  throne  were  thy  father  and 
mine  :  often  foes,  they  laid  aside  feud  and  jealousy  for  the 
sake  of  the  Saxon  line.  Now,  since  then,  thy  father  hath 
strung  earldom  to  earldom,  like  links  in  a  coat-mail. 
And,  save  Northumbria  and  Mercia,  well-nigh  all  Eng- 
land falls  to  him  and  his  sons  ;  whereas  my  father  remains 
what  he  was,  and  my  father's  son  stands  landless  and 
penceless.  In  thine  absence  the  king  was  graciously 
pleased  to  bestow  on  me  thy  father's  earldom  ;  men  say 
that  I  ruled  it  well.  Thy  father  returns,  and  though 
(here  Algar's  eyes  shot  fire,  and  his  hand  involuntarily 
rested  on  his  ateghar),  I  could  have  held  it,  methinks,  by 
the  strong  hand,  I  gave  it  up  at  my  father's  prayer,  and 
the  king's  best,  with  a  free  heart.  Now,  therefore,  I 
come  to  my  lord,  and  I  ask,  'What  lands  and  what  lord- 
ships canst  thou  spare  in  broad  England  to  Algar;  once 
Earl  of  Wessex,  and  son  to  the  Leofric  whose  hand 
smoothed  the  way  to  thy  throne  ? '  My  lord  the  king  is 
pleased  to  preach  to  me  contempt  of  the  world  ;  thou 
dost  not  despise  the  world,  Earl  of  the  East  Angles,  — 
what  sayest  thou  to  the  heir  of  Leofric  ?  " 
19*  P 


226  HAROLD. 

"  That  thy  suit  is  just,"  answered  Harold,  calmly,  "  but 
urged  with  small  reverence." 

Earl  Algar  bounded  like  a  stag  that  the  arrow  hath 
startled. 

"  It  becomes  thee,  who  hast  backed  thy  suits  with  war- 
ships and  mail,  to  talk  of  reverence,  and  rebuke  one 
whose  fathers  reigned  over  earldoms,*  when  thine  were 
no  doubt,  ceorls  at  the  plough.  But  for  Edric's  Streone, 
the  traitor  and  low-born,  what  had  been  Walnoth,  thy 
grand  sire  ?" 

So  rude  and  home  an  assault  in  the  presence  of  the 
king,  who,  though  personally  he  loved  Harold  in  his 
lukewarm  way,  yet,  like  all  weak  men,  was  not  displeased 
to  see  the  strong  split  their  strength  against  each  other, 
brought  the  blood  into  Harold's  cheek  ;  but  he  answered 
calmly :  — 

"  We  live  in  a  land,  son  of  Leofric,  in  which  birth, 
though  not  disesteemed,  gives  of  itself  no  power  in  coun- 
cil or  camp.    We  belong  to  a  land  where  men  are  valued 

*Very  few  of  the  greater  Saxon  nobles  could  pretend  to  a 
lengthened  succession  in  their  demesnes.  The  wars  with  the  Danes, 
the  many  revolutions  which  threw  new  families  uppermost,  the  con- 
fiscations and  banishments,  and-  the  invariable  rule  of  rejecting  the 
heir,  if  not  of  mature  years  at  his  father's  death,  caused  rapid 
changes  of  dynasty  in  the  several  earldoms;  but  the  family  of 
Leofric  had  just  claims  to  a  very  rare  antiquity  in  their  Mercian 
lordship.  Leofric  was  the  sixth  earl  of  Chester  and  Coventry,  in 
lineai  descent  from  his  namesake  Leofric  I. ;  he  extended  the 
supremacy  of  his  hereditary  lordship  over  all  Mercia.  See  Dug- 
DAJ.E,  Monast.  vol.  iii.  p.  102 ;  and  Palgrave's  Commonwealth^ 
Proof 8  and  Illustrations,  p.  291. 


HAROLD.  221 

for  what  they  are,  not  for  what  their  dead  ancestors 
might  have  been.  So  has  it  been  for  ages  in  Saxon  Eng- 
land, where  my  fathers,  through  Godwin,  as  thou  sayest, 
might  have  been  ceorls  ;  and  so,  I  have  heard,  it  is  in  the 
land  of  the  martial  Danes,  where  my  fathers,  through 
Githa,  reigned  on  the  thrones  of  the  North." 

"Thou  dost  well,"  said  Algar,  gnawing  his  lip,  "to 
shelter  thyself  on  the  spindle  side,  but  we  Saxons  of  pure 
descent  think  little  of  your  kings  of  the  North,  pirates 
and  idolators,  and  eaters  of  horse-flesh  ;  but  enjoy  what 
thou  hast,  and  let  Algar  have  his  due." 

"It  is  for  the  king,  not  his  servant,  to  answer  the 
prayer  of  Algar,"  said  Harold,  withdrawing  to  the  farther 
end  of  the  room. 

Algar's  eye  followed  him,  and  observing  that  the  king 
was  fast  sinking  into  one  of  the  fits  of  religious  reverie 
in  which  he  sought  to  be  inspired  with  a  decision,  when- 
ever his  mind  was  perplexed,  he  moved  with  a  light  step 
to  Harold,  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  whispered,— 

"We  do  ill  to  quarrel  with  each  other  —  I  repent  me 
of  hot  words  : — enough.  Thy  father  is  a  wise  man,  and 
sees  far  —  thy  father  would  have  us  friends.  Be  it  so. 
Hearken  :  my  daughter  Aldyth  is  esteemed  not  the  least 
fair  of  the  maidens  in  England  ;  I  will  give  her  to  thee 
as  thy  wife,  and  as  thy  morgen  gift,  thou  shalt  win  for 
me  from  the  king  the  earldom  forfeited  by  thy  brother 
Sweyn,  now  parcelled  out  among  sub-earls  and  thegns — 
oasv  enow  to  control.  By  the  shrine  of  St.  Alban,  dost 
thou  hesitate,  man  ?" 


228  HAROLD. 

"No,  not  an  instant,"  said  Harold,  stung  to  the  quick 
"Not,  couldst  thou  offer  me  all  Mercia  as  her  dower, 
would  I  wed  the  daughter  of  Algar ;  and  bend  my  knee 
as  a  son  to  a  wife's  father,  to  the  man  who  despises  my 
lineage,  while  he  truckles  to  my  power. " 

Algar's  face  grew  convulsed  with  rage  ;  but  without 
baying  a  word  to  the  earl  he  strode  back  to  Edward,  who 
now  with  vacant  eyes  looked  up  from  the  rosary  over 
which  he  had  been  bending,  and  said  abruptly  — 

"  My  lord  the  king,  I  have  spoken  as  I  think  it  be- 
comes a  man  who  knows  his  own  claims,  and  believes  in 
the  gratitude  of  princes.  Three  days  will  I  tarry  in 
London  for  your  gracious  answer ;  on  the  fourth,  I  de- 
part. May  the  saints  guard  your  throne,  and  bring 
around  it  its  best  defence,  the  thegn-born  satraps  whose 
fathers  fought  with  Alfred  and  Athelstan.  All  went 
well  with  merrie  England  till  the  hoof  of  the  Dane  king 
broke  the  soil,  and  mushrooms  sprung  up  where  the  oak- 
trees  fell." 

When  the  son  of  Leofric  had  left  the  chamber,  the 
king  rose  wearily,  and  said  in  Norman-French,  to  which 
language  he  always  yearningly  returned,  when  with  those 
who  could  speak  it, — 

"  Beau  fr ere  and  bien  aimS,  in  what  trifles  must  a  king 
pass  his  life  !  And,  all  this  while,  matters  grave  and 
urgent  demand  me.  Know  that  Eadmer,  the  cheapraan, 
waits  without,  and  hath  brought  me,  dear  and  good  man, 
the  thumb  of  St.  Jude  !    What  thought  of  delight !    And 


HAROLD.  229 

this  unmannerly  son  of  strife,  with  his  jay's  voice  and 
wolf's  eyes,  screaming  at  me  for  earldoms  ! — oh  the  folly 
of  man  !     Naught,  naught,  very  naught !  " 

"Sir  and  king,"  said  Harold,  "it  ill  becomes  me  to 
arraign  your  pious  desires,  but  these  relics  are  of  vast 
cost ;  our  coasts  are  ill  defended,  and  the  Dane  yet  lays 
claim  to  your  kingdom.  Three  thousand  pounds  of  silver 
and  more  does  it  need  to  repair  even  the  old  wall  of 
London  and  Southweorc," 

"Three  thousand  pounds  !  "  cried  the  king  ;  "thou  art 
mad,  Harold  !  I  have  scarce  twice  that  sum  in  the  trea- 
sury ;  and  besides  the  thumb  of  St.  Jude,  I  daily  expect 
the  tooth  of  St.  Remigius  —  the  tooth  of  St.  Kemigius  I" 

Harold  sighed.  "  Yex  not  yourself,  my  lord  ;  I  will  see 
to  the  defences  of  London.  For,  thanks  to  your  grace, 
my  revenues  are  large,  while  my  wants  are  simple.  1 
seek  you  now  to  pray  your  leave  t©  visit  my  earldom. 
My  lithsmen  murmur  at  my  absence,  and  grievances,  many 
and  sore,  have  arisen  in  my  exile.,, 

The  king  stared  in  terror  ;  and  his  look  was  that  of  a 
child  when  about  to  be  left  in  the  dark. 

"  Nay,  nay ;  I  cannot  spare  thee,  beau  frlre,  Thou 
curbest  all  these  stiff  thegns  —  thou  leavest  me  time  for 
the  devout ;  moreover  thy  father,  thy  father,  I  will  not 
be  left  to  thy  father  !     I  love  him  not ! " 

"My  father!"  said  Harold,  mournfully,  "returns  to 
his  own  earldom  ;  and  of  all  our  House,  you  will  have  but 
the  mild  face  of  your  queen  by  your  side!,, 

L—  20 


230  HAROLD. 

The  king's  lip  writhed  at  that  hinted  rebuke,  or  implied 
consolation. 

"  Edith,  the  queen,"  he  said,  after  a  slight  pause,  "is 
di'ous  and  good  ;  and  she  hath  never  gainsaid  my  will, 
and  she  hath  set  before  her  as  a  model  the  chaste  Susan- 
nah, as  I,  unworthy  man,  from  youth  upward,  have  walked 
in  the  pure  steps  of  Joseph.*  But,"  added  the  king,  with 
a  touch  of  human  feeling  in  his  voice,  "canst  thou  not 
conceive,  Harold,  thou  who  art  a  warrior,  what  it  would 
be  to  see  ever  before  thee  the  face  of  thy  deadliest  foe — 
the  one  against  whom  all  thy  struggles  of  life  and  death 
had  turned  into  memories  of  hyssop  and  gall  ? " 

"  My  sister  !  "  exclaimed  Harold,  in  indignant  amaze, 
V  my  sister  thy  deadliest  foe  !  She  who  never  once  mur- 
mured at  neglect,  disgrace  —  she  whose  youth  hath  been 
consumed  in  prayers  for  thee  and  thy  realm  —  my  sister! 

0  king,  I  dream  !JJ 

"Thou  dreamest  not,  carnal  man,"  said  the  king, 
peevishly.  "  Dreams  are  the  gifts  of  the  saints,  and  are 
not  granted  to  such  as  thou  !  Dost  thou  think  that,  in 
the  prime  of  my  manhood,  I  could  have  youth  and  beauty 
forced  on  my  sight,  and  hear  man's  law  and  man's  voice 
say;  '  They  are  thine,  and  thine  only,'  and  not  feel  that 
war  was  brought  to  my  hearth,  and  a  snare  set  on  my 
bed,  and  that  the  fiend  had  set  watch  on  my  soul  ?    Yerily, 

1  tell  thee,  man  of  battle,  that  thou  hast  known  no  strife 

*  Ailred,  de  Vit.  Edw. 


HAROLD.  231 

as  awful  as  mine,  and  achieved  no  victory  as  hard  and  as 
holy.  And  now,  when  ray  beard  is  silver,  and  the  Adam 
of  old  is  expelled  at  the  precincts  of  death  ;  now,  thinkest 
thou,  that  I  can  be  reminded  of  the  strife  and  temptation 
of  yore,  without  bitterness  and  shame  ;  when  days  were 
spent  in  fasting,  and  nights  in  fierce  prayer;  and  in  the 
face  of  woman  I  saw  the  devices  of  Satan  ? " 

Edward  colored  as  he  spoke,  and  his  voice  trembled 
with  the  accents  of  what  seemed  hate.  Harold  gazed  on 
him  mutely,  and  felt  that  at  last  he  had  won  the  secret 
that  had  ever  perplexed  him,  and  that  in  seeking  to  be 
above  the  humanity  of  love,  the  would-be  saint  had  in- 
deed turned  loye  into  the  hues  of  hate  —  a  thought  of 
anguish  and  a  memory  of  pain. 

The  king  recovered  himself  in  a  few  moments,  and  said, 
with  some  dignity,  u  But  God  and  his  saints  alone  should 
know  the  secrets  of  the  household.  What. I  have  said 
was  wrung  from  me.  Bury  it  in  thy  heart.  Leave  me, 
then,  Harold,  sith  so  it  must  me.  Put  thine  earldom  in 
order,  attend  to  the  monasteries  and  the  poor,  and  return 
soon.     As  for  Algar,  what  sayest  thou  ?  " 

"  I  fear  me,"  answered  the  large-souled  Harold,  with 
a  victorious  effort  of  justice  over  resentment,  "  that  if 
you  reject  his  suit,  you  will  drive  him  into  some  perilous 
extremes.  Despite  his  rash  and  pround  spirit,  he  is  brave 
against  foes,  and  beloved  by  the  ceorls,  who  oft  like  best 
the  frank  and  hasty  spirit.  Wherefore  some  power  and 
lordship  it  were  wise  to  give,  without  dispossessing  others, 


l^ 


232  HAROLD. 

and  not  more  wise  than  due,  for  his  father  served  you 
well." 

"And  hath  endowed  more  houses  of  God  than  any  earl 
in  the  kingdom.  But  Algar  is  no  Leofric.  We  will  con- 
sider your  words  and  heed  them.  Bless  you,  beau  frere  ! 
and  send  in  the  cheapman.  The  thumb  of  St.  Jude  ! 
What  a  gift  to  my  new  church  of  St.  Peter  !  The  thumb 
of  St.  Jude  !  —  Non  nobis  gloria!  Sancta  Maria!  The 
thumb  of  St.  Jude!" 


BOOK   FIFTH 


DEATH   AND   LOVE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Harold,  without  waiting  once  more  to  see  Edith,  nor 
even  taking  leave  of  his  father,  repaired  to  Dunwich,* 
the  capital  of  his  earldom.  In  his  absence,  the  king 
wholly  forgot  Algar  and  his  suit ;  and  in  the  meanwhile 
the  only  lordships  at  his  disposal,  Stigand,  the  grasping 
bishop,  got  from  him  without  an  effort.  In  much  wrath, 
Earl  Algar,  on  the  fourth  day,  assembling  all  the  loose 
men-at-arms  he  could  find  around  the  metropolis,  and  at 
the  head  of  a  numerous  disorderly  band,  took  his  way 
into  Wales,  with  his  young  daughter  Aldyth,  to  whom 
the  crown  of  a  Welch  king  was  perhaps  some  comfort 
for  the  loss  of  the  fair  earl ;  though  the  rumor  ran  that 
she  had  long  since  lost  her  heart  to  her  father's  foe. 

Edith,  after  a  long  homily  from  the  king,  returned  to 
Hilda ;  nor  did  her  godmother  renew  the  subject  of  the 

*  Dunwich,  now  swallowed  up  by  the  sea. — Hostile  element  to 
the  house  of  Godwin  ! 

20*  (233) 


234  HAROLD. 

convent.  All  she  said  on  parting  was,  "Even  in  yonth 
the  silver  cord  may  be  loosened,  and  the  golden  bowl 
may  be  broken  ;  and  rather  perhaps  in  youth  than  in  age 
when  the  heart  has  grown  hard,  wilt  thou  recall  with  a 
sigh  my  counsels." 

Godwin  had  departed  to  Wales;  al)  his  sons  were  at 
their  several  lordships ;  Edward  was  left  alone  to  his 
monks  and  relic-venders.     And  so  months  passed. 

Now  it  was  the  custom  with  the  old  kings  of  England 
to  hold  state  and  wear  their  crowns  thrice  a-year, — at 
Christmas,  at  Easter,  and  at  Whitsuntide ;  and  in  those 
times  their  nobles  came  round  them,  and  there  was  much 
feasting  and  great  pomp. 

So,  in  the  Easter  month  of  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1053, 
King  Edward  kept  his  court  at  Windshore,*  and  Earl 
Godwin  and  his  sons,  and  many  others  of  high  degree, 
left  their  homes  to  do  honor  to  the  king.  And  Earl 
Godwin  came  first  to  his  house  in  London — ri ear  the 
Tower  Palatine,  in  what  is  now  called  the  Fleet  —  and 
Harold  the  Earl,  and  Tostig,  and  Leofwine,  and  Gurth, 
were  to  meet  him  there,  and  go  thence  with  the  full  state 
of  their  sub-thegns,  and  cnehts,  and  house-carles,  their 
falcons,  and  their  hounds,  as  became  men  of  such  rank, 
to  the  court  of  King  Edward. 

Earl  Godwin  sate  with  his  wife,  Githa,  in  a  room  out 
of  the  hall,  which  looked  on  the  Thames  —  awaiting 
Harold,  who  was  expected  to  arrive  ere  nightfall.    Gurth 

*  Windsor. 


HAROLD.  235 

had  ridden  forth  to  meet  his  brother,  and  Leofwine  and 
Tostig  had  gone  over  to  Southwark,  to  try  their  band- 
dogs  on  the  great  bear,  which  had  been  brought  from  the 
North  a  few  days  before,  and  was  said  to  have  hugged 
many  good  hounds  to  death,  and  a  large  train  of  thegns 
and  house-carles  had  gone  with  them  to  see  the  sport ; 
so  that  the  old  Earl  and  his  lady  the  Dane  sate  alone. 
And  there  was  a  cloud  upon  Earl  Godwin's  large  fore- 
head, and  he  sate  by  the  fire,  spreading  his  hands  before 
it,  and  looking  thoughtfully  on  the  flame,  as  it  broke 
through  the  smoke  which  burst  out  into  the  cover,  or  hole 
in  the  roof.  And  in  that  large  house  there  were  no  less 
than  three  "covers,"  or  rooms,  wherein  fires  could  be  lit 
in  the  centre  of  the  floor ;  and  the  rafters  above  were 
blackened  with  the  smoke  ;  and  in  those  good  old  days, 
ere  chimneys,  if  existing,  were  much  in  use,  "  poses,  and 
rheumatisms,  and  catarrhs,"  were  unknown  —  so  whole- 
some and  healthful  was  the  smoke.  Earl  Godwin's 
favorite  hound,  old,  like  himself,  lay  at  his  feet,  dream- 
ing, for  it  whined  and  was  restless.  And  the  earl's  old 
hawk,  with  its  feathers  all  stiff  and  sparse,  perched  on 
the  dossel  of  the  earl's  chair ;  and  the  floor  was  pranked 
with  rushes  and  sweet  herbs  —  the  first  of  the  spring; 
and  Githa's  feet  were  on  her  stool,  and  she  leaned  her 
proud  face  on  the  small  hand  which  proved  her  descent 
from  the  Dane,  and  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  and  thought 
of  her  son  Wolnoth  in  the  court  of  the  Norman. 

"  Githa,"  at  last  said  the  earl,  "thou  hast  been  to  me 
a  good  wife  and  a  true,  and  thou  hast  borne  me  tall  and 


236  HAROLD. 

bold  sons,  some  of  whom  have  caused  us  sorrow,  and 
some  joy ;  and  in  sorrow  and  in  joy  we  have  but  drawn 
closer  to  each  other.  Yet  when  we  wed,  thou  wert  in 
thy  first  youth,  and  the  best  part  of  my  years  was  fled  ; 
and  thou  wert  a  Dane,  and  I  a  Saxon  ;  and  thou  a  king's 
niece,  and  now  a  king's  sister,  and  I  but  tracing  two 
descents  to  thegn's  rank." 

Moved  and  marvelling  at  this  touch  of  sentiment  in 
the  calm  earl,  in  whom  indeed  such  sentiment  was  rare, 
Githa  roused  herself  from  her  musings,  and  said  simply 
and  anxiously  — 

*  I  fear  my  lord  is  not  well,  that  he  speaks  thus  to 
Githa  1 " 

The  earl  smiled  faintly. 

"  Thou  art  right  with  thy  woman's  wit,  wife.  And  for 
the  last  few  weeks,  though  I  said  it  not  to  alarm  thee,  I 
have  had  strange  noises  in  my  ears,  and  a  surge,  as  of 
blood  to  the  temples." 

"  0  Godwin  !  dear  spouse,"  said  Githa,  tenderly,  "  and 
I  was  blind  to  the  cause,  but  wondered  why  there  was 
some  change  in  thy  manner !  But  I  will  go  to  Hilda  to- 
morrow; she  hath  charms  against  all  disease." 

"  Leave  Hilda  in  peace,  to  give  her  charms  to  the 
young  !  age  defies  Wigh  and  Wicca.  Now  hearken  to 
me.  I  feel  that  my  thread  is  nigh  spent,  and,  as  Hilda 
would  say,  my  Fylgia  forewarns  me  that  we  are  about  to 
part.  Silence,  I  say,  and  hear  me.  I  have  done  proud 
things  in  my  day ;  I  have  made  kings  and  built  thrones, 
and  I  stand  higher  in  England  than  ever  thegn  or  earl 


haroeV  231 


stood  before.  I  would  not,  Githa,  that  the  tree  of  my 
house,  planted  in  the  storm,  and  watered  with  lavish 
blood,  should  wither  away." 

The  old  earl  paused,  and  Githa  said,  loftily  — 
"  Fear  not  that  thy  name  will  pass  from  the  earth,  o'* 
thy  race  from  power.  For  fame  has  been  wrought  by  thy 
hands,  and  sons  have  been  born  to  thy  embrace ;  and  the 
boughs  of  the  tree  thou  hast  planted  shall  live  in  the  sun- 
light when  we  its  roots,  0  my  husband,  are  buried  in  the 
earth." 

"  Githa,"  replied  the  earl,  "thou  speakest  as  the  daugh- 
ter of  kings  and  the  mother  of  men  ;  but  listen  to  me, 
for  my  soul  is  heavy.  Of  these  our  sons,  our  first-born, 
alas  !  is  a  wanderer  and  outcast — Sweyn,  once  the  beau- 
tiful and  brave  ;  and  Wolnoth,  thy  darling,  is  a  guest  in 
the  court  of  the  Norman  our  foe.  Of  the  rest,  Gurth  is 
so  mild  and  so  calm,  that  I  predict  without  fear  that  he 
will  be  a  warrior  of  fame,  for  the  mildest  in  hall  are  ever 
the  boldest  in  field,  but  Gurth  hath  not  the  deep  wit  of 
these  tangled  times ;  and  Leofwine  is  too  light,  and 
Tostig  too  fierce.  So  wife  mine,  of  these  our  six  sons, 
Harold  alone,  dauntless  as  Tostig,  mild  as  Gurth,  hath 
his  father's  thoughtful  brain.  And,  if  the  king  remains 
as  aloof  as  now  from  his  royal  kinsman,  Edward  the 
Atheling,  who"  —  the  earl  hesitated  and  looked  round — 
"  who  so  near  to  the  throne  when  I  am  no  more,  as  Ha- 
rold, the  joy  of  the  ceorls,  and  the  pride  of  the  thegns  ? 
he — whose  tongue  never  falters  in  the  Witan,  and  whose 
arm  never  yet  hath  known  defeat  in  the  field?" 


238  HAROLD. 

Githa's  heart  swelled,  and  her  cheek  grew  flushed. 

"  But  what  I  fear  the  most,"  resumed  the  earl,  "  is, 
not  the  enemy  without,  but  the  jealousy  within.  By  the 
side  of  Harold  stands  Tostig,  rapacious  to  grasp,  but 
impotent  to  hold  —  able  to  ruin,  strengthless  to  save." 

"Nay,  Godwin,  my  lord,  thou  wrrongest  our  handsome 
son." 

"  Wife,  wife,"  said  the  earl,  stamping  his  foot,  "  hear 
me  and  obey  me  :  for  my  words  on  earth  may  be  few, 
and  whilst  thou  gainsayest  me  the  blood  mounts  to  my 
brain,  and  my  eyes  see  through  a  cloud." 

"  Forgive  me,  sweet  lord,"  said  Githa,  humbly. 

"  Mickle  and  sore  it  repents  me  that  in  their  youth  I 
spared  not  the  time  from  my  worldly  ambition  to  watch 
over  the  hearts  of  my  sons ;  and  thou  wert  too  proud  of 
the  surface  without,  to  look  well  to  the  workings  within, 
and  what  was  once  soft  to  the  touch  is  now  hard  to  the 
hammer.  In  the  battle  of  life  the  arrows  we  neglect  to 
pick  up,  Fate,  our  foe,  will  store  in  her  quiver ;  we  have 
armed  her  ourselves  with  the  shafts  —  the  more  need  to 
beware  with  the  shield.  Wherefore,  if  thou  survivest  me, 
and  if,  as  I  forebode,  dissension  break  out  between  Ha- 
rold and  Tostig,  I  charge  thee  by  memory  of  our  love, 
and  reverence  for  my  grave,  to  deem  wise  and  just  all  that 
Hai  old  deems  just  and  wise.  For  when  Godwin  is  in  the 
dust,  his  House  lives  alone  in  Harold.  Heed  me  now, 
and  heed  ever.  And  so,  while  the  day  yet  lasts,  I  will 
go  forth  into  the  marts  and  the  guilds,  and  talk  with  the 


HAROLD.  239 

burgesses,  and  smile  on  their  wives,  and  be,  to  the  last, 
Godwin  the  smooth  and  the  strong." 

So  saying,  the  old  earl  arose,  and  walked  forth  with  a 
firm  step ;  and  his  old  hound  sprang  up,  pricked  its  ears, 
and  followed  him  ;  the  blinded  falcon  turned  its  head  to- 
wards the  clapping  door,  but  did  not  stir  from  the  dossel. 

Then  Githa  again  leant  her  cheek  on  her  hand,  and 
again  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  gazing  into  the  red  flame 
of  the  fire, — red  and  fitful  through  the  blue  smoke — and 
thought  over  her  lord's  words.  It  might  be  the  third  part 
of  an  hour  after  Godwin  had  left  the  house,  when  the 
door  opened,  and  Githa  expecting  the  return  of  her  sons, 
looked  up  eagerly,  but  it  was  Hilda,  who  stooped  her 
head  under  the  vault  of  the  door ;  and  behind  Hilda, 
came  two  of  her  maidens,  bearing  a  small  cyst,  or  chest. 
The  Yala  motioned  to  her  attendants  to  lay  the  cyst  at 
the  feet  of  Githa,  and,  that  done,  with  lowly  salutation 
they  left  the  room. 

The  superstitions  of  the  Danes  were  strong  in  Githa ; 
and  she  felt  an  indescribable  awe  when  Hilda  stood  be- 
fore her,  the  red  light  playing  on  the  Yala's  stern  marble 
face,  and  contrasting  robes  of  funereal  black.  But,  with 
all  her  awe,  Githa,  who,  not  educated  like  her  daughter 
Edith,  had  few  feminine  resources,  loved  the  visits  of  her 
mysterious  kinswoman.  She  loved  to  live  her  youth  over 
again  in  discourse  on  the  wild  customs  and  dark  rites  of 
the  Dane  ;  and  even  her  awe  itself  had  the  charm  which 
the  ghost  tale  has  to  the  child ;  —  for  the  illiterate  ^re 


24(J  HAROLD. 

ever  children.  So,  recovering  her  surprise,  and  her  first 
pause,  she  rose  to  welcome  the  Yala,  and  said :  — 

"Hail,  Hilda,  and  thrice  hail!  The  day  has  been 
warm  and  the  way  long  ;  and,  ere  thou  takest  food  and 
wine,  let  me  prepare  for  thee  the  bath  for  thy  form,  or 
the  bath  for  thy  feet.  For  as  sleep  to  the  young,  is  the 
bath  to  the  old." 

Hilda  shook  her  head. 

"  Bringer  of  sleep  am  I,  and  the  baths  I  prepare  are 
in  the  halls  of  Valhalla.  Offer  not  to  the  Yala  the  bath 
for  mortal  weariness,  and  the  wine  and  the  food  meet  for 
human  guests.  Sit  thee  down,  daughter  of  the  Dane, 
and  thank  thy  new  gods  for  the  past  that  hath  been  thine. 
Not  ours  is  the  present,  and  the  future  escapes  from  our 
dreams  ;  but  the  past  is  ours  ever,  and  all  eternity  cannot 
revoke  a  single  joy  that  the  moment  hath  known." 

Then  seating  herself  in  Godwin's  large  chair,  she  leant 
over  her  seid-staff,  and  was  silent*  as  if  absorbed  in  her 
thoughts. 

"  Githa,"  she  said  at  last,  "  where  is  thy  lord  ?  I  came 
to  touch  his  hands  and  to  look  on  his  brow." 

"  He  hath  gone  forth  into  the  mart,  and  my  sons  are 
from  home  :  and  Harold  comes  hither  ere  night,  from  his 
earldom." 

A  faint  smile,  as  of  triumph,  broke  over  the  lips  of  the 
Vala,  and  then  as  suddenly  yielded  to  an  expression  of 
great  sadness. 

"Githa,"  she  said,   slowly,    "doubtless  thou   remem 


HAROLD.  241 

berest  in  thy  young  days  to  have  seen  or  heara  of  the 
terrible  hell-maid  Belsta  ?  " 

"Ay,  ay,"  answered  Githa,  shuddering ;  "  I  saw  her 
once  in  gloomy  weather,  driving  before  her  herds  of  dark 
grey  cattle.  Ay,  ay ;  and  my  father  beheld  her  ere  his 
death,  riding  the  air  on  a  wolf,  with  a  snake  for  a  bridle. 
Why  askest  thou  ?  " 

"Is  it  not  strange,"  said  Hilda,  evading  the  question, 
"that  Belsta,  and  Heida,  and  Hulla  of  old,  the  wolf- 
riders,  the  men-devourers,  could  win  to  the  uttermost 
secrets  of  galdra,  though  applied  only  to  purposes  the 
direst  and  fellest  to  man,  and  that  I,  though  ever  in  the 
future,  —  I,  though  tasking  the  Normibs  not  to  afflict 
a  foe,  but  to  shape  the  careers  of  those  I  love,  —  I  find, 
indeed,  my  predictions  fulfilled ;  but  how  often,  alas  I 
only  in  horror  and  doom  ! " 

"  How  so,  kinswoman,  how  so  ?  "  said  Githa,  awed,  yet 
charmed  in  the  awe,  and  drawing  her  chair  nearer  to  the 
mournful  sorceress.  "  Didst  thou  not  foretell  our  return 
in  triumph  from  the  unjust  outlawry,  and,  lo,  it  hath 
come  to  pass  ?  and  hast  thou  not  (here  Githa's  proud 
face  flushed)  li  foretold  also  that  my  stately  Harold  shall 
wear  the  diadem  of  a  king  ? " 

"Truly,  the  first  came  to  pass,"  said  Hilda;  "but — " 
she  paused,  and  her  eye  fell  on  the  cyst;  then  breaking 
off  she  continued,  speaking  to  herself  rather  than  to 
Githa  —  "And  Harold's  dream,  what  did  that  portend? 
the  runes  fail  me,  and  the  dead  give  no  voice.     And  be* 

I.  —  21  Q 


242  HAROLD. 

yond  one  dim  day,  in  which  his  betrothed  shall  clasp  him 
with  the  arms  of  a  bride,  all  is  dark  to  my  vision  —  dark 

—  dark.     Speak  not  to  me,  Githa  ;  for  a  burthen,  heavy 
as  the  stone  on  a  grave,  rests  on  a  weary  heart ! " 

A  dead  silence  succeeded,  till,  pointing  with  her  staff 
to  the  fire,  the  Yala  said,  "  Lo,  where  the  smoke  and  the 
flame  contend  !  —  the  smoke  rises  in  dark  gyres  to  the 
air,  and  escapes,  to  join  the  wrack  of  clouds.  From  the 
first  to  the  last  we  trace  its  birth  and  its  fall ;  from  the 
heart  of  the  fire  to  the  descent  in  the  rain,  so  is  it  with 
human  reason,  which  is  not  the  light  but  the  smoke ;  it 
struggles  but  to  darken  us ;  it  soars  but  to  melt  in  the 
vapor  and  dew.  Yet  lo,  the  flame  burns  in  our  hearth 
till  the  fuel  fails,  and  goes  at  last,  none  know  whither. 
But  it  lives  in  the  air  though  we  see  it  not  ;  it  lurks  in 
the  stone  and  waits  the  flash  of  the  steel ;  it  coils  round 
the  dry  leaves  and  sere  stalks,  and  a  touch  re-illumines 
it ;  it  plays  in  the  marsh  —  it  collects  in  the  heavens  —  it 
appals  us  in  the  lightning  —  it  gives  warmth  to  the  air 

—  life  of  our  life,  and  element  of  all  elements.  O  Githa, 
the  flame  is  the  light  of  the  soul,'the  element  everlasting ; 
and  it  liveth  still,  when  it  escapes  from  our  view;  it 
burneth  in  the  shapes  to  which  it  passes ;  it  vanishes  but 
is  never  extinct." 

So  saying,  the  Yala's  lips  again  closed;  and  again 
both  the  women  sate  silent  by  the  great  fire,  as  it  flared 
and  flickered  over  the  deep  lines  and  high  features  of 
Githa,  the  earl's  wife,  and  the  calm,  unwrinkled,  solemn 
face  of  the  melancholy  Yala. 


HAROLD.  243 


CHAPTER   II. 

While  these  conferences  took  place  in  the  house  of 
Godwin,  Harold,  on  his  way  to  London,  dismissed  his 
train  to  precede  him  to  his  father's  roof,  and,  striking 
across  the  country,  rode  fast  and  alone  towards  the  old 
Roman  abode  of  Hilda.  Months  had  elapsed  since  he 
had  seen  or  heard  of  Edith.  News  at  that  time,  I  need 
not  say,  was  rare  and  scarce,  and  limited  to  public  events, 
either  transmitted  by  special  nuncius,  or  passing  pilgrim, 
or  borne  from  lip  to  lip  by  the  talk  of  the  scattered  multi- 
tude. But  even  in  his  busy  and  anxious  duties,  Harold 
had  in  vain  sought  to  banish  from  his  heart  the  image 
of  that  young  girl,  whose  life  he  needed  no  Yala  to  pre- 
dict to  him  was  interwoven  with  the  fibres  of  his  own. 
The  obstacles  which,  while  he  yielded  to,  he  held  unjust 
and  tyrannical,  obstacles  allowed  by  his  reluctant  reason 
and  his  secret  ambition  —  not  sanctified  by  conscience  — 
only  inflamed  the  deep  strength  of  the  solitary  passion 
his  life  had  known  ;  a  passion  that,  dating  from  the  very 
childhood  of  Edith,  had,  often  unknown  to  himself, 
animated  his  desire  of  fame,  and  mingled  with  his  visions 
of  power.  Nor,  though  hope  was  far  and  dim,  was  it 
extinct.  The  legitimate  heir  of  Edward  the  Confessor 
was  a  prince  living  in  the  court  of  the  Emperor,  of  fair 
repute,  and  himself  wedded  ;  and  Edward's  health,  always 


244  HAROLD. 

precarious,  seemed  to  forbid  any  very  prolonged  existence 
to  the  reigning  king.  Therefore,  he  thought,  that 
through  the  successor,  whose  throne  would  rest  in  safety 
upon  Harold's  support,  he  might  easily  obtain  that  dis- 
pensation from  the  Pope  which  he  knew  the  present  king 
would  never  ask  —  a  dispensation  rarely  indeed,  if  ever, 
accorded  to  any  subject,  and  which,  therefore,  needed  all 
a  king's  power  to  back  it. 

So  in  that  hope,  and  fearful  lest  it  should  be  quenched 
for  ever  by  Edith's  adoption  of  the  veil  and  the  irrevoca- 
ble vow,  with  a  beating,  disturbed,  but  joyful  heart,  he 
rode  over  field  and  through  forest  to  the  old  Roman 
house. 

He  emerged  at  length  to  the  rear  of  the  villa,  and  the 
sun,  fast  hastening  to  its  decline,  shone  full  upon  the 
rude  columns  of  the  Druid  temple ;  and  there,  as  he  had 
tseen  her  before,  when  he  had  first  spoken  of  love  and  its 
barriers,  he  beheld  the  young  maiden. 

He  sprang  from  his  horse,  and  leaving  the  well-trained 
animal  loose  to  browse  on  the  waste  land,  he  ascended 
the  knoll.  He  stole  noiselessly  behind  Edith,  and  his 
foot  stumbled  against  the  grave-stone  of  the  dead  Titan- 
Saxon  of  old  ;  but  the  apparition,  whether  real  or  fancied, 
and  the  dream  that  had  followed,  had  long  passed  from 
his  memory,  and  no  superstition  was  in  the  heart  spring- 
ing to  the  lips,  that  cried  "  Edith,"  once  again. 

The  girl  started,  looked  round,  and  fell  upon  his  breast. 

It  was  some  moments  before  she  recovered  conscious- 


HAROLD.  245 

ness,  and  then,  withdrawing  herself  gently  from  his  arms, 
she  leant  for  support  against  the  Teuton   altar. 

She  was  much  changed  since  Harold  had  seen  her  last : 
her  cheek  had  grown  pale  and  thin,  and  her  rounded  form 
seemed  wasted ;  and  sharp  grief,  as  he  gazed,  shot 
through  the  soul  of  Harold. 

"  Thou  hast  pined,  thou  hast  suffered,"  said  he  mourn- 
fully :  "  and  I,  who  would  shed  my  life's  blood  to  take 
one  from  thy  sorrows,  or  add  to  one  of  thy  joys,  have 
been  afar,  unable  to  comfort,  perhaps  only  a  cause  of 
thy  woe." 

"No,  Harold,"  said  Edith,  faintly,  "never  of  woe; 
always  of  comfort,  even  in  absence.  I  have  been  ill,  and 
Hilda  hath  tried  rune  and  charm  all  in  vain  ;  but  I  am 
better,  now  that  Spring  hath  come  tardily  forth,  and  I 
look  on  the  fresh  flowers,  and  hear  the  song  of  the  birds." 

But  tears  were  in  the  sound  of  her  voice,  while  she 
spoke. 

"And  they  have  not  tormented  thee  again  with  the 
thoughts  of  the  convent  ?  " 

"They?  no;  —  but  my  soul,  yes.  O  Harold,  release 
me  from  my  promise  ;  for  the  time  already  hath  come 
that  thy  sister  foretold  to  me  ;  the  silver  cord  is  loosened, 
and  the  golden  bowl  is  broken,  and  I  would  fain  take  the 
wings  of  the  dove,  and  be  at  peace." 

"  Is  it  so  ?  —  Is  there  peace  in  the  home  where  the 
thought  of  Harold  becomes  a  sin  ?  " 

"  Not  sin  then  and  there,  Harold,  not  sin.  Thy  sifter 
21* 


246  HAROLD. 

hailed  the  convent  when  she  thought  of  prayer  for  those 
she  loved." 

"  Prate  not  to  me  of  my  sister  ! "  said  Harold,  through 
his  set  teeth.  V  It  is  but  a  mockery  to  talk  of  prayer  for 
the  heart  that  thou  thyself  rendest  in  twain.  Where  is 
Hilda?     I  would  see  her." 

"  She  hath  gone  to  thy  father's  house  with  a  gift;  and 
it  was  to  watch  for  her  return  that  I  sate  on  the  green 
knoll." 

The  earl  then  drew  near  and  took  her  hand,  and  sate 
by  her  side,  and  they  conversed  long.  But  Harold  saw 
with  a  fierce  pang  that  Edith's  heart  was  set  upon  the 
convent,  and  that  even  in  his  presence,  and  despite  his 
soothing  words,  she  was  broken-spirited  and  despondent. 
It  seemed  as  if  her  youth  and  life  had  gone  from  her, 
and  the  day  had  come  in  which  she  said,  "  There  is  no 
pleasure." 

Never  had  he  seen  her  thus ;  and,  deeply  moved  as 
well  as  keenly  stung,  he  rose  at  length  to  depart ;  her 
hand  lay  passive  in  his  parting  clasp,  and  a  slight  shiver 
went  over  her  frame. 

"Farewell,  Edith;  when  I  return  from  Windshore,  I 
shall  be  at  my  old  home  yonder,  and  we  shall  meet 
again." 

Edith's  lips  murmured  inaudibly,  and  she  bent  her  eyes 
to  the  ground. 

Slowly  Harold  regained  his  steed,  and  as  he  rode  on, 
he  looked  behind  and  waved  oft  his  hand ;  but  Edith 
Bate  motionless,  her  eyes  still  on  the  ground,  and  he  saw 


HAROLD.  247 

not  the  tears  that  fell  from  them  fast  and  burning ;  nor 
heard  he  the  low  voice  that  groaned  amidst  the  heathen 
ruins,  "  Mary,  sweet  mother,  shelter  me  from  my  own 
heart ! " 

The  sun  had  set  before  Harold  gained  the  long  and 
spacious  abode  of  his  father.  All  around  it  lay  the  roofs 
and  huts  of  the  great  earPs  special  tradesmen,  for  even 
his  goldsmith  was  but  his  freed  ceorl.  The  house  itself 
stretched  far  from  the  Thames  inland,  with  several  low 
courts  built  only  of  timber,  rugged  and  shapeless,  but 
filled  with  bold  men,  then  the  great  furniture  of  a  noble's 
halls. 

Amidst  the  shouts  of  hundreds,  eager  to  hold  his 
stirrup,  the  earl  dismounted,  passed  the  swarming  hall, 
and  entered  the  room,  in  which  he  found  Hilda  and 
Githa  —  and  Godwin,  who  had  preceded  his  entry  but  a 
few  minutes. 

In  the  beautiful  reverence  of  son  to  father,  which  made 
one  of  the  loveliest  features  of  the  Saxon  character  *  (as 
the  frequent  want  of  it  makes  the  most  hateful  of  the 
Norman  vices),  the  all-powerful  Harold  bowed  his  knee 
to  the  old  earl,  who  placed  his  hand  on  his  head  in  bene- 
diction, and  then  kissed  him  on  the  cheek  and  brow. 

"  Thy  kiss,  too,  dear  mother,"  said  the  younger  earl ; 
and  Githa's  embrace,  if  more  cordial  than  her  lord's, 
was  not,  perhaps,  more  fond. 

*  The  chronicler,  however,  laments  that  the  household  ties,  for- 
merly so  strong  with  the  Anglo-Saxon,  had  been  much  weakened 
in  the  age  prior  to  the  Conquest 


248  HAROLD. 

"Greet  Hilda,  my  son,"  said  Godwin,  "she  hath 
brought  me  a  gift,  and  she  hath  tarried  to  place  it  under 
thy  special  care.  Thou  alone  must  heed  the  treasure, 
and  open  the  casket.  But  when  and  where,  my  kins- 
woman ?" 

"  On  the  sixth  day  after  thy  coming  to  the  king's 
hall,"  answered  Hilda,  not  returning  the  smile  with  which 
Godwin  spoke  — "  on  the  sixth  day,  Harold,  open  the 
chest,  and  take  out  the  robe  which  hath  been  spun  in 
the  house  of  Hilda  for  Godwin  the  Earl.  And  now, 
Godwin,  I  have  clasped  thine  hand,  and  I  have  looked 
on  thy  brow,  and  my  mission  is  done ;  and  I  must  wend 
homeward." 

"  That  shalt  thou  not,  Hilda,"  said  the  hospitable  earl ; 
"  the  meanest  wayfarer  hath  a  right  to  bed  and  board  in 
this  house  for  a  night  and  a  day,  and  thou  wilt  not  dis- 
grace us  by  leaving  our  threshold,  the  bread  unbroken, 
and  the  couch  unpressed.  Old  friend,  we  were  young 
together,  and  thy  face  is  welcome  to  me  as  the  memory 
of  former  days." 

Hilda  shook  her  head,  and  one  of  those  rare,  and  for 
that  reason,  most  touching,  expressions  of  tenderness,  of 
which  the  calm  and  rigid  character  of  her  features,  when 
in  repose,  seemed  scarcely  susceptible,  softened  her  eye, 
and  relaxed  the  firm  lines  of  her  lips. 

"  Son  of  Wolnoth,"  said  she,  gently,  "not  under  thy 
roof-tree  should  lodge  the  raven  of  bode.  Bread  have  I 
not  broken  since  yestere'en,  and  sleep  will  be  far  from 
my  eyes  to-night.     Fear  not,  for  my  people  without  are 


HAROLD.  249 

stout  and  armed,  and  for  the  rest  there  lives  not  the  man 
whose  arm  can  have  power  over  Hilda." 

She  took  Harold's  hand  as  she  spoke,  and  leading 
him  forth,  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  I  would  have  a  word 
with  thee  ere  we  part."  Then,  reaching  the  threshold, 
she  waved  her  wand  thrice  over  the  floor,  and  muttered 
in  the  Danish  tongue  a  rude  verse,  which,  translated, 
ran  somewhat  thus  :  — 

"All  free  from  the  knot 

Glide  the  thread  of  the  akein, 
And  rest  to  the  labor, 
And  peace  to  the  pain !" 

"It  is  a  death-dirge,"  said  Githa,  with  whitening  lips; 
but  she  spoke  inly,  and  neither  husband  nor  son  heard 
her  words. 

Hilda  and  Harold  passed  in  silence  through  the  hall, 
and  the  Yala's  attendants,  with  spears  and  torches,  rose 
from  the  settles,  and  went  before  to  the  outer  court, 
where  snorted  impatiently  her  black  palfrey. 

Halting  in  the  midst  of  the  court,  she  said  to  Harold 
in  a  low  voice  — 

"At  sunset  we  part  —  at  sunset  we  shall  meet  again. 
And  behold,  the  star  rises  on  the  sunset ;  and  the  star, 
broader  and  brighter,  shall  rise  on  the  sunset  then  ! 
When  thy  hand  draws  the  robe  from  the  chest,  think  on 
Hilda,  and  know  that  at  that  hour  she  stands  by  the 
grave  of  the  Saxon  warrior,  and  that  from  the  grave 
dawns  the  future.     Farewell  to  thee  ! n 

Harold  longed  to  speak  to  her  of  Edith,  but  a  stiange 

21* 


250  HAROLD. 

awe  at  his  heart  chained  his  lips ;  so  he  stood  silent  by 
the  great  wooden  gates  of  the  rude  house.  The  torches 
flamed  round  him,  and  Hilda's  face  seemed  lurid  in  the 
glare.  There  he  stood  musing  long  after  torch  and  ceorl 
had  passed  away,  nor  did  he  wake  from  his  reverie  till 
Gurth,  springing  from  his  panting  horse,  passed  his  arm 
round  the  earPs  shoulder,  and  cried  — 

"  How  did  I  miss  thee,  my  brother  !  and  why  didst 
thou  forsake  thy  train  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  thee  anon.  Gurth,  has  my  father  ailed  ? 
There  is  that  in  his  face  which  I  like  not." 

u  He  hath  not  complained  of  misease,"  said  Gurth, 
startled;  "but  now  thou  speakest  of  it,  his  mood  hath 
altered  of  late,  and  he  hath  wandered  much  alone,  or 
only  with  the  old  hound  and  the  old  falcon." 

Then  Harold  turned  back,  and  his  heart  was  full,  and 
when  he  reached  the  house,  his  father  was  sitting  in  the 
hall  on  his  chair  of  state  ;  and  Githa  sate  on  his  right 
hand,  and  a  little  below  her  sate  Tostig  and  Leofwine, 
who  had  come  in  from  the  bear-hunt  by  the  river-gate, 
and  were  talking  loud  and  merrily;  and  thegns  and 
cnehts  sate  all  around,  and  there  was  wassail  as  Harold 
entered ;  but  the  earl  looked  only  to  his  father,  and  he 
saw  that  his  eyes  were  absent  from  the  glee,  and  that  he 
was  bending  his  head  over  the  old  falcon,  which  sate  or 
his  wrist. 


HAROLD.  251 


CHAPTER   III. 

No  subject  of  England,  since  the  race  oi  Cerdic  sate 
on  the  throne,  ever  entered  the  court-yard  of  Windshore 
with  such  train  and  such  state  as  Earl  Godwin.  Proud 
of  that  first  occasion,  since  his  return,  to  do  homage  to 
him  with  whose  cause  that  of  England  against  the 
stranger  was  bound,  all  truly  English  at  heart  amongst 
the  thegns  of  the  land  swelled  his  retinue.  Whether 
Saxon  or  Dane,  those  who  alike  loved  the  laws  and  the 
soil,  came  from  north  and  from  south  to  the  peaceful 
banner  of  the  old  earl ;  but  most  of  these  were  of  the 
past  generation,  for  the  rising  race  were  still  dazzled  by 
the  pomp  of  the  Norman  ;  and  the  fashion  of  English 
manners,  and  the  pride  in  English  deeds,  had  gone  out 
of  date  with  long  locks  and  bearded  chins.  Nor  there, 
were  the  bishops  and  abbots  and  the  lords  of  the  Church, 
« — for  dear  to  them  already  the  fame  of  the  Norman  piety, 
and  they  shared  the  distaste  of  their  holy  king  to  the 
strong  sense  and  homely  religion  of  Godwin,  who  founded 
no  convents,  and  rode  to  war  with  no  relics  round  his 
neck  ;  but  they  with  Godwin  were  the  stout  and  the  frank 
and  the  free,  in  whom  rested  the  pith  and  marrow  of  Eng- 
lish manhood  ;  and  they  who  were  against  him  were  the 
blind  and  willing  and  fated  fathers  of  slaves  unborn. 
«  Not  then  the  stately  castle  we  now  behold,  which  is  of 


25*  HAROLD. 

the  masonry  of  a  prouder  race,  nor  on  the  same  site,  but 
two  miles  distant  on  the  winding  of  the  river  shore 
(whence  it  took  its  name),  a  rude  building  partly  of  tim- 
ber and  partly  of  Roman  brick,  adjoining  a  large  monas- 
tery and  surrounded  by  a  small  hamlet,  constituted  the 
palace  of  the  saint-king. 

So  rode  the  earl  and  his  four  fair  sons,  all  abreast,  into 
the  court-yard  of  Windshore.*  Now  when  King  Edward 
heard  the  tramp  of  the  steeds  and  the  hum  of  the  multi- 
tudes, as  he  sate  in  his  closet  with  his  abbots  and  priests, 
all  in  still  contemplation  of  the  thumb  of  St.  Jude,  the 
king  asked, — • 

"  What  army,  in  the  day  of  peace,  and  the  time  of 
Easter,  enters  the  gates  of  our  palace  ? " 

Then  an  abbot  rose  and  looked  out  of  the  narrow  win- 
dow, and  said  with  a  groan, — 

"Army  thou  may'st  well  call  it,  O  king  !  —  and  foes  to 
us  and  to  thee  head  the  legions " 

"  Inprinis"  quoth  our  abbot  the  scholar  ;  "  thou  speak- 
est,  I  trow,  of  the  wicked  earl  and  his  sons." 

The  king's  face  changed.  "  Come  they,"  said  he,  "  with 
so  large  a  train  ?  This  smells  more  of  vaunt  than  of 
loyalty:  naught  —  very  naught." 

*Some  authorities  state  Winchester  as  the  scene  of  these  memoi 
able  festivities.  Old  Windsor  Castle  is  supposed  by  Mr.  Lysons  tw 
have  occupied  the  site  of  a  farm  of  Mr.  Isherwood's,  surrounded 
by  a  moat,  about  two  miles  distant  from  New  Windsor.  lie  con- 
jectures that  it  was  still  occasionally  inhabited  by  the  Norman 
kings  till  1110.  The  ville  surrounding  it  only  contained  ninety- 
five  houses,  paying  gabel-tax,  in  the  Norman  survey.  * 


HAROLD.  253 

"Alack  ! "  said  one  of  the  conclave,  "  I  fear  me  that 
the  men  of  Belial  will  work  us  harm  ;  the  heathen  are 
mighty,  and n 

"Fear  not,"  said  Edward,  with  benign  loftiness,  ob 
serving  that  his  guests  grew  pale,  and  himself,  though 
often  weak  to  childishness,  and  morally  wavering  and 
irresolute, — still  so  far  king  and  gentleman,  that  he  knew 
no  craven  fear  of  the  body.  "  Fear  not  for  me,  my 
fathers ;  humble  as  I  am,  I  am  strong  in  the  faith  of 
heaven  and  its  angels." 

The  churchmen  looked  at  each  other,  sly  yet  abashed  ; 
it  was  not  precisely  for  the  king  that  they  feared. 

Then  spoke  Aired,  the  good  prelate  and  constant  peace- 
maker—  fair  column  and  lone  one  of  the  fast-crumbling 
Saxon  Church.  "  It  is  ill  in  you,  brethren,  to  arraign 
the  truth  and  good  meaning  of  those  who  honor  your 
king ;  and  in  these  days  that  lord  should  ever  be  the  most 
welcome  who  brings  to  the  halls  of  his  king  the  largest 
number  of  hearts,  stout  and  leal.'7 

"  By  your  leave,  brother  Aired,"  said  Stigand,  who, 
though  from  motives  of  policy  he  had  aided  those  who 
besought  the  king  not  to  peril  his  crown  by  resisting  the 
return  of  Godwin,  benefited  too  largely  by  the  abuses  of 
the  Church  to  be  sincerely  espoused  to  the  cause  of  the 
strong-minded  earl;  " By  your  leave,  brother  Aired,  to 
every  leal  heart  is  a  ravenous  mouth  ;  and  the  treasures 
of  the  king  are  well-nigh  drained  in  feeding  these  hungry 
and  welcomeless  visitors.  Durst  I  counsel,  my  lord,  I 
tvould  pray  him,  as  a  matter  of  policy,  to  baffle  this  astute 

I. —  22 


254  HAROLD. 

and  proud  earl.  He  would  fain  have  the  king  feast  in 
public,  that  he  might  daunt  him  and  the  Church  with  the 
array  of  his  friends." 

"  I  conceive  thee,  my  father,"  said  Edward,  with  more 
quickness  than  habitual,  and  with  the  cunning,  sharp 
though  guileless,  that  belongs  to  minds  undeveloped,  "  I 
conceive  thee ;  it  is  good  and  most  politic.  This  our 
orgulous  earl  shall  not  have  his  triumph,  and,  so  fresh 
from  his  exile,  brave  his  king  with  the  mundane  parade 
of  his  power.  Our  health  is  our  excuse  for  our  absence 
from  the  banquet,  and,  sooth  to  say,  we  marvel  much 
why  Easter  should  be  held  a  fitting  time  for  feasting  and 
mirth.  Wherefore,  Hugoline,  my  chamberlain,  advise 
the  earl,  that  to-day  we  keep  fast  till  the  sunset,  when 
temperately,  with  eggs,  bread,  and  fish,  we  will  sustain 
Adam's  nature.  Pray  him  and  his  sons  to  attend  us  — 
they  alone  be  our  guests."  And  with  a  sound  that 
seemed  a  laugh,  or  the  ghost  of  a  laugh,  low  and  chuck- 
ling—  for  Edward  had  at  moments  an  innocent  humor 
which  his  monkish  biographer  disdained  not  to  note,*  — 
he  flung  himself  back  in  his  chair.  The  priests  took  the 
cue,  and  shook  their  sides  heartily,  as  Hugoline  left  the 
room,  not  ill  pleased,  by  the  way,  to  escape  an  invitation 
to  the  eggs,  bread,  and  fish. 

Aired  sighed ;  and  said,  "  For  the  earl  and  his  sons, 
this  is  honor ;  but  the  other  earls  and  the  thegns,  will 
miss  at  the  banquet  him  whom  they  design  but  to  honorr 
and " 

*  Ailred,  de  Tit.  Edward,  Confess. 


HAROLD.  255 

"I  have  said,'4  interrupted  Edward,  dryly,  and  with  a 
look  of  fatigue. 

"And,"  observed  another  churchman,  with  malice,  "  at 
least  the  young  earls  will  be  humbled,  for  they  will  not 
sit  with  the  king  and  their  father,  as  they  would  in  the 
Hall,  and  must  serve  my  lord  with  napkin  and  wine." 

"Inprinis,"  quoth  our  scholar  the  abbot,  "  that  will  bo 
rare  !  I  would  I  were  by  to  see  ;  but  this  Godwin  is  i 
man  of  treachery  and  wile,  and  my  lord  should  beware  ot 
the  fate  of  murdered  Alfred  his  brother  ! " 

The  king  started,  and  pressed  his  hands  to  his  eyes. 

"  How  darest  thou,  Abbot  of  Fatchere,"  cried  Aired 
indignantly ;  u  How  darest  thou  revive  grief  withou 
remedy,  and  slander  without  proof?" 

"Without  proof?"  echoed  Edward,  in  a  hollow  voice. 
"He  who  could  murder,  could  well  stoop  to  forswear! 
Without  proof  before  man  ;  but  did  he  try  the  ordeals  of 
God?  —  did  his  feet  pass  the  plough-share?  —  did  his 
hand  grasp  the  seething-iron  ?  Yerily,  verily,  thou  didst 
wrong  to  name  to  me  Alfred  my  brother  !  I  shall  see 
his  sightless  and  gore-dropping  sockets  in  the  face  of 
Godwin,  this  day,  at  my  board." 

The  king  rose  in  great  disorder ;  and  after  pacing  the 
room  some  moments,  disregardful  of  the  silent  and  scared 
looks  of  his  churchmen,  waved  his  hand,  in  sign  to  them 
to  depart.  All  took  the  hint  at  once  save  Aired ;  but 
he,  lingering  the  last,  approached  the  king  with  dignity 
in  his  step  and  compassion  in  his  eyes. 

"Banish  from  thy  breast,  0  king  and  son,  thoughts  un 


256  HAROLD. 

meet,  and  of  doubtful  charity  !  All  that  man  could  know 
of  Godwin's  innocence  or  guilt  —  the  suspicion  of  the 
vulgar  —  the  acquittal  of  his  peers,  — was  known  to  thee 
before  thou  didst  seek  his  aid  for  thy  throne,  and  didst 
take  his  child  for  thy  wife.  Too  late  is  it  now  to  sus- 
pect ;  leave  thy  doubts  to  the  solemn  day,  which  draws 
nigh  to  the  old  man,  thy  wife's  father  ! " 

"  Ha ! "  said  the  king,  seeming  not  to  heed,  or  wilfully 
to  misunderstand  the  prelate,  "  Ha,  leave  him  to  God  ; — 
I  will ! » 

He  turned  away  impatiently ;  and  the  prelate  reluct- 
antly departed. 


CHAPTER   IT. 

Tostig  chafed  mightily  at  the  king's  message  ;  and,  on 
Harold's  attempt  to  pacify  him,  grew  so  violent  that 
nothing  short  of  the  cold,  stern  command  of  his  father, 
who  carried  with  him  that  weight  of  authority  never 
known  but  to  those  in  whom  wrath  is  still  and  passion 
noiseless,  imposed  sullen  peace  on  his  son's  rugged  nature. 
But  the  taunts  heaped  by  Tostig  upon  Harold  disquieted 
the  old  earl,  and  his  brow  was  yet  sad  with  prophetic 
care  when  he  entered  the  royal  apartments.  He  had  been 
introduced  into  the  king's  presence  but  a  moment  before 
Hugoline  led  the  way  to  the  chamber  of  repast,  and  the 
greeting  between  king  and  earl  had  been  brief  and  formal 


HAROLD.  251 

Under  the  canopy  of  state  were  placed  but  two  chairs, 
for  the  king  and  the  queen's  father;  and  the  four  sons, 
Harold,  Tostig,  Leofwine,  and  Gurth,  stood  behind. 
Such  was  the  primitive  custom  of  ancient  Teutonic  kings  > 
and  the  feudal  Norman  monarchs  only  enforced,  though 
with  more  pomp  and  more  rigor,  the  ceremonial  of  the 
forest  patriarchs — youth  to  wait  on  age,  and  the  ministers 
of  the  realm  on  those  whom  their  policy  had  made  chiefs 
in  council  and  war. 

The  earl's  mind,  already  embittered  by  the  scene  with 
his  sons,  was  chafed  yet  more  by  the  king's  unloving 
coldness;  for  it  is  natural  to  man,  however  worldly,  to 
feel  affection  for  those  he  has  served,  and  Godwin  had 
won  Edward  his  crown  ;  nor,  despite  his  warlike  though 
bloodless  return,  could  even  monk  or  Norman,  in  count- 
ing up  the  old  earl's  crimes,  say  that  he  had  ever  failed 
in  personal  respect  to  the  king  he  had  made  ;  nor  over- 
great  for  subject,  as  the  earl's  power  must  be  confessed, 
will  historian^  now  be  found  to  say  that  it  had  not  been 
well  for  Saxon  England  if  Godwin  had  found  more  favor 
with  his  king,  and  monk  and  Norman  less.* 

So  the  old  earl's  stout  heart  was  stung,  and  he  looked 

*  "  Is  it  astonishing,"  asked  the  people  (referring  to  Edward's 
preference  of  the  Normans),  "that  the  author  and  support  of 
Edward's  reign  should  be  indignant  at  seeing  new  men  from  a 
foreign  nation  raised  above  him,  and  yet  never  does  he  utter  one 
harsh  word  to  the  man  whom  he  himself  created  king." — Hazlitt'8 
Thierry,  vol.  i.  p.  126. 

This  is  the  English  account  (versus  the  Norman).  There  can  be 
little  doubt  that  it  is  the  true  one. 

22*  r 


258  HAROLD. 

from  those  deep,  impenetrable  eyes,  mournfully  upon  Ed- 
ward's chilling  brow. 

And  Harold,  with  whom  all  household  ties  were  strong, 
but  to  whom  his  great  father  was  especially  dear,  watched 
his  face  and  saw  that  it  was  very  flushed.  But  the 
practised  courtier  sought  to  rally  his  spirits,  and  to  smile 
and  jest. 

From  smile  and  jest,  the  king  turned  and  asked  for 
wine.  Harold,  starting,  advanced  with  the  goblet ;  as 
he  did  so,  he  stumbled  with  one  foot,  but  lightly  re- 
covered himself  with  the  other;  and  Tostig  laughed 
scornfully  at  Harold's  awkwardness. 

The  old  earl  observed  both  stumble  and  laugh,  and 
willing  to  suggest  a  lesson  to  both  his  sons,  said — laugh- 
ing pleasantly  —  "Lo,  Harold,  how  the  left  foot  saves 
the  right ! — so  one  brother,  thou  seest,  helps  the  other  ! "  * 

King  Edward  looked  up  suddenly. 

"  And  so,  Godwin,  also,  had  my  brother  Alfred  helped 
me,  hadst  thou  permitted." 

The  old  earl,  galled  to  the  quick,  gazed  a  moment  on 
the  king,  and  his  cheek  was  purple,  and  his  eyes  seemed 
bloodshot. 

"0  Edward!"  he  exclaimed,  "thou  speakest  tj  me 
hardly  and  unkindly  of  thy  brother  Alfred,  and  often  hast 
thou  thus  more  than  hinted  that  I  caused  his  death." 

The  king  made  no  answer. 

11  May  this  crumb  of  bread  choke  me,"  said  the  earl, 


*  Henry  of  Huntingdon,  &c. 


ITAROLD.  259 

in  great  emotion,  "if  I  am  guilty  of  thy  brother's 
blood  ! "  * 

But  scarcely  had  the  bread  touched  his  lips,  when  his 
eyes  fixed,  the  long  warning  symptoms  were  fulfilled. 
And  he  fell  to  the  ground,  under  the  table,  sudden  and 
heavy,  smitten  by  the  stroke  of  apoplexy. 

Harold  and  Gurth  sprang  forward,  they  drew  their 
father  from  the  ground.  His  face,  still  deep-red  with 
streaks  of  purple,  rested  on  Harold's  breast ;  and  the 
son,  kneeling,  called  in  anguish  on  his  father :  the  ear 
was  deaf. 

Then  said  the  king,  rising, — 

"  It  is  the  hand  of  God  :  remove  him  ! "  and  he  swept 
from  the  room,  exulting. 


CHAPTER   V. 

For  five  days  and  five  nights  did  Godwin  lie  speech- 
less.f  And  Harold  watched  over  him  night  and  day. 
And  the  leaches  J  would  not  bleed  him,  because  the 
season  was  against  it,  in  the  increase  of  the  moon  and 
the  tides,  but  they  bathed  his  temples  with  wheat  flour 
boiled   in  milk,  according   to   a   prescription  which  an 

*  Henry  of  Huntingdon  ;  Bromt.  Chron.  &c.  f  Hoveden. 

J  The  origin  of  the  word  leach  (physician),  which  has  puzzled 
some  inquirers,  is  from  Uch,  or  leac,  a  body.  Leich  is  the  old  Saxon 
word  for  surgeon. 


260  HAROLD. 

angel  in  a  dream  *  had  advised  to  another  patient ;  and 
they  placed  a  plate  of  lead  on  his  breast,  marked  with 
five  crosses,  saying  a  paternoster  over  each  cross ;  to- 
gether with  other  medical  specifics  in  great  esteem,  f 
But,  nevertheless,  five  days  and  five  nights  did  Godwin 
lie  speechless ;  and  the  leaches  then  feared  that  human 
skill  was  in  vain. 

The  effect  produced  on  the  court,  not  more  by  the 
earl's  death-stroke  than  the  circumstances  preceding  it, 
was  such  as  defies  description.  With  Godwin's  old  com- 
rades in  arms,  it  was  simple  and  honest  grief;  but  with 
all  those  under  the  influence  of  the  priests,  the  event  was 
regarded  as  a  direct  punishment  from  Heaven.  The 
previous  words  of  the  king,  repeated  by  Edward  to  his 
monks,  circulated  from  lip  to  lip,  with  sundry  exaggera- 
tions as  it  travelled  :  and  the  superstition  of  the  day  had 
the  more  excuse,  inasmuch  as  the  speech  of  Godwin 
touched  near  upon  the  defiance  of  one  of  the  most  popular 
ordeals  of  the  accused, — viz.  that  called  the  "corsned," 
in  which  a  piece  of  bread  was  given  to  the  supposed 
criminal :  if  he  swallowed  it  with  ease,  he  was  innocent  r, 
if  it  stuck  in  his  throat,  or  choked  him,  nay,  if  he  shook 
and  turned  pale,  he  was  guilty.  Godwin's  words  had 
appeared  to  invite  the  ordeal,  God  had  heard  and  stricken 
down  the  presumptuous  perjurer  ! 

Unconscious,  happily,  of  these  attempts  to  blacken  the 
name  of  his  dying  father,  Harold,  towards  the  grey  dawn 

*  Sharon  Turner,  vol.  i.  p.  472.  |  Fosbrooke 


HAROLD.  261 

succeeding  the  fifth  night,  thought  that  he  heard  Godwin 
stir  in  his  bed.  So  he  put  aside  the  curtain,  and  bent 
over  him.  The  old  earl's  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  the 
red  color  had  gone  from  his  cheeks,  so  that  he  was  pale 
as  death. 

"How  fares  it,  dear  father?"  asked  Harold. 

Godwin  smiled  fondly,  and  tried  to  speak,  but  his 
voice  died  in  a  convulsive  rattle.  Lifting  himself  up, 
however,  with  an  effort,  he  pressed  tenderly  the  hand 
that  clasped  his  own,  leant  his  head  on  Harold's  breast, 
and  so  gave  up  the  ghost. 

When  Harold  was  at  last  aware  that  the  struggle  was 
over,  he  laid  the  grey  head  gently  on  the  pillow  ;  he  closed 
the  eyes,  and  kissed  the  lips,  and  knelt  down  and  prayed. 
Then,  seating  himself  at  a  little  distance,  he  covered  his 
face  with  his  mantle. 

At  this  time  his  brother  Gurth,  who  had  chiefly  shared 
watch  with  Harold,  —  for  Tostig,  foreseeing  his  father's 
death,  was  busy  soliciting  thegn  and  earl  to  support  his 
own  claims  to  the  earldom  about  to  be  vacant ;  and 
Leofwine  had  gone  to  London  on  the  previous  day  to 
summon  Githa,  who  was  hourly  expected  —  Gurth,  I  say, 
entered  the  room  on  tiptoe,  and  seeing  his  brother's 
attitude,  guessed  that  all  was  over.  He  passed  on  to  the 
table,  took  up  the  lamp,  and  looked  long  on  his  father's 
face.  That  strange  smile  of  the  dead,  common  alike  to 
innocent  and  guilty,  had  already  settled  on  the  serene 
lips  ;  and  that  no  less  strange  transformation  from  age  to 
youth,  when  the  wrinkles  vanish,  and  the  features  come 


262  HAROLD. 

out  clear  and  sharp  from  the  hollows  of  care  and  years, 
had  already  begun.  And  the  old  man  seemed  sleeping 
in  his  prime. 

80  Gurth  kissed  the  dead,  as  Harold  had  done  before 
him,  and  came  up  and  sate  himself  by  his  brother's  feet, 
and  rested  his  head  on  Harold's  knee ;  nor  would  he 
speak  till,  appalled  by  the  long  silence  of  the  earl,  he 
drew  away  the  mantle  from  his  brother's  face  with  a 
gentle  hand,  and  the  large  tears  were  rolling  down 
Harold's  cheeks. 

"Be  soothed,  my  brother,"  said  Gurth;  "our  father 
has  lived  for  glory,  his  age  was  prosperous,  and  his  years 
more  than  those  which  the  Psalmist  allots  to  man.  Come 
and  look  on  his  face,  Harold  ;  its  calm  will  comfort  thee." 

Harold  obeyed  the  hand  that  led  him  like  a  child ;  in 
passing  towards  the  bed,  his  eye  fell  upon  the  cyst  which 
Hilda  had  given  to  the  old  earl,  and  a  chill  shot  through 
his  veins. 

"  Gurth,"  said  he,  "is  not  this  the  morning  of  the  sixth 
day  in  which  we  have  been  at  the  king's  court  ?  " 

"It  is  the  morning  of  the  sixth  day." 

Then  Harold  took  forth  the  key  which  Hilda  had  given 
him,  and  unlocked  the  cyst,  —  and  there  lay  the  white 
winding-sheet  of  the  dead,  and  a  scroll.  Harold  took 
the  scroll,  and  bent  over  it,  reading  by  the  mingled  light 
of  the  lamp  and  the  dawn  :  — 

"All  hail,  Harold,  heir  of  Godwin  the  great,  and  Githa 
the  king-born  !  Thou  hast  obeyed  Hilda,  and  thou  know- 
est  now  that  Hilda's  eyes  read  the  future,  and  her  lips 


HAROLD.  263 

speak  the  dark  words  of  truth.  Bow  thy  heart  to  the 
Yala,  and  mistrust  the  wisdom  that  sees  only  the  things 
of  the  day-light.  As  the  valor  of  the  warrior  and  the 
song  of  the  scald,  so  is  the  lore  of  the  prophetess.  It 
is  not  of  the  body,  it  is  soul  within  soul ;  it  marshals 
events  and  men,  like  the  Yala  —  it  moulds  the  air  into 
substance,  like  the  song.  Bow  thy  heart  to  the  Yala. 
Flowers  bloom  over  the  grave  of  the  dead.  And  the 
young  plant  soars  high,  when  the  king  01  tne  woodland 
nes  low  ! " 


CHAPTER   VI. 

The  sun  rose,  and  the  stairs  and  passages  without  were 
filled  with  the  crowds  that  pressed  to  hear  news  of  the 
earPs  health.  The  doors  stood  open,  and  Gurth  led  in 
the  multitude  to  look  their  last  on  the  hero  of  council 
and  camp,  who  had  restored  with  strong  hand  and  wise 
brain  the  race  of  Cerdic  to  the  Saxon  throne.  Harold 
stood  by  the  bed-head  silent,  and  tears  were  shed  and  sobs 
were  heard.  And  many  a  thegn  who  had  before  half 
believed  in  the  guilt  of  Godwin  as  the  murderer  of  Al 
fred,  whispered  in  gasps  to  his  neighbor, — 

"  There  is  no  weregeld  for  man-slaying  on  the  head  of 
him,  who  smiles  so  in  death  on  his  old  comrades  in  life ! " 

Last  of  all  lingered  Leofric,  the  great  earl  of  Mercia ; 
and  when  the  rest  had  departed,  he  took  the  pale  hand, 
that  lay  heavy  on  the  coverlid,  in  his  own,  and  said  — 


264  HAROLD. 

"  Old  foe,  often  stood  we  in  Witan  and  field  against 
each  other;  but  few  are  the  friends  for  whom  Leofric 
would  mourn  as  he  mourns  for  thee.  Peace  to  thy  soul ! 
Whatever  its  sins,  England  should  judge  thee  mildly,  for 
England  beat  in  each  pulse  of  thy  heart,  and  with  thy 
greatness  was  her  own  ! " 

Then  Harold  stole  round  the  bed,  and  put  his  arms 
round  Leofric's  neck,  and  embraced  him.  The  good  old 
earl  was  touched,  and  he  laid  his  tremulous  hands  on 
Harold's  brown  locks  and  blessed  him. 

"Harold,"  he  said,  "thou  succeedest  to  thy  father's 
power  :  let  thy  father's  foes  be  thy  friends.  Wake  from 
thy  grief,  for  thy  country  now  demands  thee, — the  honor 
of  thy  House,  and  the  memory  of  the  dead.  Many  even 
now  plot  against  thee  and  thine.  Seek  the  king,  demand 
as  thy  right  thy  father's  earldom,  and  Leofric  will  back 
thy  claim  in  the  Witan." 

Harold  pressed  Leofric's  hand,  and  raising  it  to  his 
lips  replied  —  "  Be  our  houses  at  peace  henceforth  and 
for  ever  1 " 

Tostig's  vanity  indeed  misled  him,  when  he  dreamed 
that  any  combination  of  Godwin's  party  could  meditate 
supporting  his  claims  against  the  popular  Harold  —  nor 
less  did  the  monks  deceive  themselves,  when  they  sup* 
posed,  that  with  Godwin's  death,  the  power  of  his  family 
would  fall. 

There  was  more  than  even  the  unanimity  of  the  chiefs 
of  the  Witan,  in  favor  of  Harold  ;  there  was  that  univer- 
sal noiseless  impression  throughout  all  England,  Danish 


HAROLD.  265 

and  Saxon,  that  Harold  was  now  the  sole  man  on  whom 
rested  the  state  —  which,  whenever  it  so  favors  one  indi- 
vidual, is  irresistible.  Nor  was  Edward  himself  hostile 
to  Harold,  whom  alone  of  that  House,  as  we  have  before 
said,  he  esteemed  and  loved. 

Harold  was  at  once  named  Earl  of  Wessex ;  and  re- 
linquishing the  ea*rldom  he  held  before,  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate as  to  the  successor  to  be  recommended  in  his  place. 
Conquering  all  jealousy  and  dislike  for  Algar,  he  united 
the  strength  of  his  party  in  favor  of  the  son  of  Leofric, 
and  the  election  fell  upon  him.  With  all  his  hot  errors, 
the  claims  of  no  other  earl,  whether  from  his  own  capa- 
cities or  his  father's  services,  were  so  strong  ;  and  his 
election  probably  saved  the  state  from  a  great  danger,  in 
the  results  of  that  angry  mood  and  that  irritated  ambi- 
tion with  which  he  had  thrown  himself  into  the  arms  of 
England's  most  valiant  aggressor,  Gryffyth,  king  of  North 
Wales. 

To  outward  appearance,  by  this  election,  the  House 
of  Leofric  —  uniting  in  father  and  son  the  two  mighty 
districts  of  Mercia  aud  the  East  Anglians — became  more 
powerful  than  that  of  Godwin ;  for,  in  that  last  House, 
Harold  was  now  only  the  possessor  of  one  of  the  great 
earldoms,  and  Tostig  and  the  other  brothers  had  no  other 
provision  beyond  the  comparatively  insignificant  lordships 
they  held  before.  But  if  Harold  had  ruled  no  earldom 
at  all,  he  had  still  been  immeasurably  the  first  man  in 
England  —  so  great  was  the  confidence  reposed  in  his 

I.— 23 


266  HAROLD. 

valor  and  wisdom.  He  was  of  that  height  in  himself, 
that  he  needed  no  pedestal  to  stand  on. 

The  successor  of  the  first  great  founder  of  a  House 
succeeds  to  more  than  his  predecessor's  power,  if  he  but 
know  how  to  wield  and  maintain  it ;  for  who_makes  his 
way  to  greatness  without  raising  foes  at  every  step  ?  and 
who  ever  rose  to  power  supreme,  without  grave  cause  for 
blame  ?  But  Harold  stood  free  from  the  enmities  his 
father  had  provoked,  and  pure  from  the  stains  that  slan- 
der or  repute  cast  upon  his  father's  name.  The  sun  of 
the  yesterday  had  shone  through  cloud ;  the  sun  of  the 
day  rose  in  a  clear  firmament.  Even  Tostig  recognized 
the  superiority  of  his  brother ;  and,  after  a  strong  strug- 
gle between  baffled  rage  and  covetous  ambition,  yielded 
to  him,  as  to  a  father.  He  felt  that  all  Godwin's  house 
was  centered  in  Harold  alone ;  and  that  only  from  his 
brother  (despite  his  own  daring  valor,  and  despite  his 
alliance  with  the  blood  of  Charlemagne  and  Alfred, 
through  the  sister  of  Matilda,  the  Norman  duchess), 
could  his  avarice  of  power  be  gratified. 

"  Depart  to  thy  home,  my  brother,"  said  Earl  Harold 
to  Tostig,  "  and  grieve  not  that  Algar  is  preferred  to 
thee  ;  for,  even  had  his  claim  been  less  urgent,  ill  would 
it  have  beseemed  us  to  arrogate  the  lordships  of  all  Eng- 
land as  our  dues.  Rule  thy  lordship  with  wisdom  :  gain 
the  love  of  thy  lithsmen.  High  claims  hast  thou  in  our 
father's  name,  ahd  moderation  now  will  but  strengtheo 
thee  in  the  season  to  come.  Trust  on  Harold  somewhat, 
on  thyself  more.     Thou  hast  but  to  add  temper  and  judg- 


HAROLD.  26T 

/nent  to  valor  and  zeal,  to  be  worthy  mate  of  the  first  earl 
in  England.  Over  my  father's  corpse  I  embraced  my 
father's  foe.  Between  brother  and  brother  shall  there 
not  be  love,  as  the  best  bequest  of  the  dead?" 

'-'It  shall  not  be  my  fault,  if  there  be  not,"  answered 
Tostig,  humbled  though  chafed.  And  he  summoned  his 
men  and  returned  to  his  domains. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

Fair,  broad,  and  calm  set  the  sun  over  the  western 
woodlands ;  and  Hilda  stood  on  the  mound,  and  looked 
with  undazzled  eyes  on  the  sinking  orb.  Beside  her, 
Edith  reclined  on  the  sward,  and  seemed,  with  idle  hand, 
tracing  characters  in  the  air.  The  girl  had  grown  paler 
still,  since  Harold  last  parted  from  her  on  the  same  spot, 
and  the  same  listless  and  despondent  apathy  stamped  her 
smileless  lips  and  her  bended  head. 

"  See,  child  of  my  heart,"  said  Hilda,  addressing  Edith, 
while  she  still  gazed  on  the  western  luminary,  "  see,  the 
sun  goes  down  to  the  far  deeps,  where  Rana  and  iEgir  * 
watch  over  the  worlds  of  the  sea ;  but  with  morning  he 

*JEgir,  the  Scandinavian  god  of  the  ocean.  Not  one  of  the  Aser, 
or  Asas  (the  celestial  race),  but  sprung  from  the  giants.  Ran  or 
Rana,  his  wife,  a  more  malignant  character,  who  caused  ship- 
wrecks, and  drew  to  herself,  by  a  net,  all  that  fell  into  the  sea. 
The  offspring  of  this  marriage  were  nine  daughters,  who  became 
the  Billows,  the  Currents,  and  the  Storms. 


268  HAROLD. 

comes  from  the  halls  of  Asas  —  the  golden  gates  of  the 
East — and  joy  comes  in  his  train.  And  yet  thou  thinkest, 
sad  child,  whose  years  have  scarce  passed  into  woman, 
that  the  sun,  once  set,  never  comes  back  to  life  !  But 
even  while  we  speak,  thy  morning  draws  near,  and  the 
dunness  of  cloud  takes  the  hues  of  the  rose  ! " 

Edith's  hand  paused  from  its  vague  employment,  and 
fell  droopingly  on  her  knee  ; — she  turned  with  an  unquiet 
and  anxious  eye  to  Hilda,  and  after  looking  some  mo- 
ments wistfully  at  the  Yala,  the  color  rose  to  her  cheek, 
and  she  said  in  a  voice  that  had  an  accent  half  of  anger — 

"  Hilda,  thou  art  cruel ! " 

"  So  is  Fate  ! "  answered  the  Yala.  "  But  men  call 
not  Fate  cruel  when  it  smiles  on  their  desires.  Why 
callest  thou  Hilda  cruel,  when  she  reads  in  the  setting 
sun  the  runes  of  thy  coming  joy  ! n 

11  There  is  no  joy  for  me,"  returned  Edith,  plaintively ; 
"  and  I  have  that  on  my  heart,"  she  added,  with  a  sudden 
and  almost  fierce  change  of  tone,  "  which  at  last  I  will 
dare  to  speak.  I  reproach  thee,  Hilda,  that  thou  hast 
marred  all  my  life,  that  thou  hast  duped  me  with  dreams, 
and  left  me  alone  in  despair." 

"  Speak  on,"  said  Hilda,  calmly,  as  a  nurse  to  a  fro- 
ward  child. 

11  Hast  thou  not  told  me,  from  the  first  dawn  of  my 
wondering  reason,  that  my  life  and  lot  were  inwoven  with 
—  with  (the  word,  mad.  and  daring,  must  out)  with  those 
of  Harold  the  peerless  ?  But  for  that,  which  my  infancy 
took  from  thy  lips  as  a  law,  I  had  never  been  so  vain  and 


HAROLD.  269 

so  fr&'.tic !  I  had  never  watched  each  play  of  his  face, 
and  treasured  each  word  from  his  lips  ;  I  had  never  made 
my  life  but  a  part  of  his  life — all  my  soul  but  the  shadow 
of  his  sun.  But  for  that,  I  had  hailed  the  calm  of  the 
cloister  —  but  for  that,  I  had  glided  in  peace  to  my  grave. 
And  now  —  now,  0  Hilda — "  Edith  paused,  and  that 
break  had  more  eloquence  than  any  words  she  could  com- 
mand. "And,"  she  resumed  quickly,  "thou  knowest 
that  these  hopes  were  but  dreams  —  that  the  law  ever 
stood  between  him  and  me — and  that  it  was  guilt  to  love 
him." 

"I  knew  the  law,"  answered  Hilda,  "but  the  law  of 
fools  is  to  the  wise  as  the  cobweb  swung  over  the  brake 
to  the  wing  of  the  bird.  Ye  are  sibbe  to  each  other, 
some  five  times  removed ;  and,  therefore,  an  old  man  at 
Rome  saith,  that  ye  ought  not  to  wed.  When  the  shave- 
lings obey  the  old  man  at  Rome,  and  put  aside  their  own 
wives  and  frillas,*  and  abstain  from  the  wine-cup,  and 
the  chase,  and  the  brawl,  I  will  stoop  to  hear  of  their 
laws,  —  with  disrelish  it  may  be,  but  without  scorn.  *j-  It 
is  no  sin  to  love  Harold  ;  and  no  monk  and  no  law  shall 

*  Frilla,  the  Danish  word  for  a  lady  who,  often  with  the  wife's 
consent,  was  added  to  the  domestic  circle  by  the  husband.  The 
word  is  here  used  by  Hilda  in  a  general  sense  of  reproach.  Both 
marriage  and  concubinage  were  common  amongst  the  Anglo-Saxon 
priesthood,  despite  the  unheeded  canons ;  and  so,  indeed,  they  were 
with  the  French  clergy. 

f  Hilda,  not  only  as  a  heathen,  but  as  a  Dane,  would  be  n*>  favorer 
of  monks.  They  were  unknown  in  Denmark  at  that  time,  and  the 
Danes  held  them  in  odium.  —  Ord.  Vital,  lib.  vii. 

23* 


2T0  HAROLD. 

prevent  your  union  on  the  day  appointed  to  bring  ye 
together,  form  and  heart." 

"  Hilda !  Hilda !  madden  me  not  with  joy,"  cried 
Edith,  starting  up  in  rapturous  emotion,  her  young  face 
dyed  with  blushes,  and  all  her  renovated  beauty  so  celes- 
tial that  Hilda  herself  was  almost  awed,  as  if  by  the  vision 
of  Freya,  the  northern  Yenus,  charmed  by  a  spell  from 
the  halls  of  Asgard. 

"  But  that  day  is  distant,"  renewed  the  Yala. 

"  What  matters  !  what  matters  ! "  cried  the  pure  child 
of  Nature  ;  "  I  ask  but  hope.  Enough,  —  oh  !  enough, 
if  we  were  but  wedded  on  the  borders  of  the  grave  !  " 

"  Lo,  then,"  said  Hilda,  "  behold,  the  sun  of  thy  life 
dawns  again  ! '' 

As  she  spoke,  the  Yala  stretched  her  arm,  and,  through 
the  intersticed  columns  of  the  fane,  Edith  saw  the  large 
shadow  of  a  man  cast  over  the  still  sward.  Presently  into 
the  space  of  the  circle  came  Harold,  her  beloved.  His 
face  was  pale  with  grief  yet  recent ;  but,  perhaps,  more 
than  ever,  dignity  was  in  his  step  and  command  on  his 
brow,  for  he  felt  that  now  alone  with  him  rested  the  might 
of  Saxon  England.  And  what  royal  robe  so  invests  witb 
imperial  majesty  the  form  of  man  as  the  grave  sense  cf 
power  responsible,  in  an  earnest  soul  ? 

"  Thou  comest,"  said  Hilda,  "in  the  hour  I  predicted  ; 
at  the  setting  of  the  sun  and  the  rising  of  the  star." 

"  Yala,"  said  Harold,  gloomily,  "  I  will  not  oppose  my 
sense  to  thy  prophecies  ;  for  who  shall  judge  of  that 
power  of  which  he  knows  not  the  elements  ?  or  despise 


HAROLD.  271 

the  marvel  of  which  he  cannot  detect  the  imposture  ? 
But  leave  me,  I  pray  thee,  to  walk  in  the  broad  light  of 
the  common  day.  These  hands  are  made  to  grapple  with 
things  palpable,  and  these  eyes  to  measure  the  forms  that 
front  my  way.  In  my  youth,  I  turned  in  despair  or  dis- 
gust from  the  subtleties  of  the  schoolmen,  which  split 
upon  hairs  the  brains  of  Lombard  and  Frank  ;  in  my 
busy  and  stirring  manhood,  entangle  me  not  in  the  meshes 
which  confuse  all  my  reason,  and  sicken  my  waking 
thoughts  into  dreams  of  awe.  Mine  be  the  straight  path 
and  the  plain  goal  ! " 

The  Yala  gazed  on  him  with  an  earnest  look,  that  par- 
took of  admiration,  and  yet  more  of  gloom  ;  but  she 
spoke  not,  and  Harold  resumed. — 

"Let  the  dead  rest,  Hilda  —  proud  names  with  glory 
on  earth,  and  shadows  escaped  from  our  ken,  submissive 
to  mercy  in  heaven.  A  vast  chasm  have  my  steps  over- 
leapt  since  we  met,  0  Hilda  —  sweet  Edith  ;  —  a  vast 
chasm,  but  a  narrow  grave."  His  voice  faltered  a  mo- 
ment, and  again  he  renewed  :  —  "  Thou  weepest,  Edith  ; 
ah,  how  thy  tears  console  me  !  Hilda,  hear  me  !  I  love 
thy  grandchild — loved  her  by  irresistible  instinct  since 
her  blue  eyes  first  smiled  on  mine.  I  loved  her  in  her 
childhood,  as  in  her  youth  —  in  the  blossom  as  in  the 
flower;  and  thy  grandchild  loves  me.  The  laws  of  the 
Church  proscribe  our  marriage,  and  therefore  we  parted  ; 
but  I  feel,  and  thine  Edith  feels,  that  the  love  remains  as 
strong  in  absence  :  no  other  will  be  her  wedded  lord,  no 
t'ther  my  wedded  wife.     Therefore,  with  a  heart  made 


272  HAROLD. 

soft  by  sorrow,  and,  in  my  father's  death,  sole  lord  of  my 
fate,  I  return,  and  say  to  thee  in  her  presence,  '  Suffer  us 
to  hope  still ! p  The  day  may  come,  when  under  some 
king  less  enthralled  than  Edward  by  formal  Church  laws, 
we  may  obtain  from  the  Pope  absolution  for  our  nuptials, 
—  a  day,  perhaps,  far  off;  but  we  are  both  young,  and 
love  is  strong  and  patient:  we  can  wait." 

"  0  Harold,"  .exclaimed  Edith,  "we  can  wait!" 
"  Have  I  not  told  thee,  son  of  Godwin,"  said  the  Yala, 
solemnly,  "  that  Edith's  skein  of  life  was  enwoven  with 
thine  ?  Dost  thou  deem  that  my  charms  have  not  ex- 
plored the  destiny  of  the  last  of  my  race  ?  Know  that 
it  is  in  the  decrees  of  the  fates  that  ye  are  to  be  united, 
never  more  to  be  divided.  Know  that  there  shall  come 
a  day,  though  I  can  see  not  its  morrow,  and  it  lies  dim 
and  afar,  which  shall  be  the  most  glorious  of  thy  life, 
and  on  which  Edith  and  fame  shall  be  thine, — the  day  of 
thy  nativity,  on  which  hitherto  all  things  have  prospered 
with  thee.  In  vain  against  the  stars  preach  the  mone 
and  the  priest :  what  shall  be,  shall  be.  Wherefore,  take 
hope  and  joy,  O  Children  of  Time  !  And  now,  as  I  join 
your  hands,  I  betroth  your  souls." 

Rapture  unalloyed  and  unprophetic,  born  of  love  deep 
and  pure,  shone  in  the  eyes  of  Harold,  as  he  clasped  the 
hand  of  his  promised  bride.  But  an  involuntary  and 
mysterious  shudder  passed  over  Edith's  frame,  and  she 
leant  close,  close,  for  support  upon  Harold's  breast. 
And,  as  if  by  a  vision,  there  rose  distinct  in  her  memory, 
a  stern  brow,  a  form  of  power  and  terror — the  brow  and 


HAROLD.  273 

the  form  of  him  who  but  once  again  in  her  waking  life 
the  Prophetess  had  told  her  she  should  behold.  The 
vision  passed  away  in  the  warm  clasp  of  those  protect- 
ing arms ;  and  looking  up  into  Harold's  face,  she  there 
beheld  the  mighty  and  deep  delight  that  transfused  itself 
at  once  into  her  own  soul 

Then  Hilda,  placing  one  hand  over  their  heads,  and 
raising  the  other  towards  heaven,  all  radiant  with  burst- 
ing stars,  said  in  her  deep  and  thrilling  tones, — 

"Attest  the  betrothal  of  these  young  hearts,  0  ye 
Powers  that  draw  nature  to  nature  by  spells  which  no 
galdra  can  trace,  and  have  wrought  in  the  secrets  of 
creation  no  mystery  so  perfect  as  love.  —  Attest  it,  thou 
temple,  thou  altar  !  —  attest  it,  0  sun  and  0  air  !  While 
the  forms  are  divided,  may  the  souls  cling  together — sor- 
row with  sorrow,  and  joy  with- joy.  And  when,  at  length, 
bride  and  bridegroom  are  one, — 0  stars,  may  the  trouble 
with  which  ye  are  charged  have  exhausted  its  burthen ; 
may  no  danger  molest,  and  no  malice  disturb,  but,  over 
the  marriage-bed,  shine  in  peace,  0  ye  stars  !  " 

Up  rose  the  moon.  May's  nightingale  called  its  mate 
from  the  breathless  boughs  ;  and  so  Edith  and  Harold 
were  betrothed  by  the  grave  of  the  son  of  Cerdic.  And 
from  the  line  of  Cerdic  had  come,  since  Ethelbert,  all  the 
Saxon  kings  who  with  sword  and  with  sceptre  had  reigned 
over  Saxon  England. 


23* 


BOOK   SIXTH 


AMBITION. 


CHAPTER   I. 

There  was  great  rejoicing  in  England.  King  Edward 
had  been  induced  to  send  Aired  the  prelate*  to  the  court 
of  the  German  Emperor,  for  his  kinsman  and  namesake, 
Edward  Atheling,  the  son  of  the  great  Ironsides.  In  his 
childhood,  this  prince,  with  his  brother  Edmund,  had 
been  committed  by  Canute  to  the  charge  of  his  vassal, 
the  King  of  Sweden  ;  and  it  has  been  said  (though  with- 
out sufficient  authority),  that  Canute's  design  was,  that 
they  should  be  secretly  made  away  with.  The  King  of 
Sweden,  however,  forwarded  the  children  to  the  court  of 
Hungary;  they  were  there  honorably  reared  and  received. 
Edmund  died  young,  without  issue.  Edward  married  a 
daughter  of  the  German  Emperor,  and  during  the  com- 
motions in  England,  and  the  successive  reigns  of  Harold 
Harefoot,  Hardicanute,  and  the  Confessor,  had  remained 
orgotten  in   his   exile,  until  now  suddenly  recalled   to 


*  Chron.  Knyghton. 

(274) 


HAROLD.  275 

England  as  the  heir  presumptive  of  his  childless  name- 
sake. He  arrived  with  Agatha  his  wife,  one  infant  son. 
Edgar,  and  two  daughters,  Margaret  and  Christina. 

Great  were  the  rejoicings.  The  vast  crowd  that  had 
followed  the  royal  visitors  in  their  procession  to  the  old 
London  palace  (not  far  from  St.  Paul's),  in  which  they 
were  lodged,  yet  swarmed  through  the  streets,  when  two 
thegns  who  had  personally  accompanied  the  Atheling 
from  Dover,  and  had  just  taken  leave  of  him,  now  emerged 
from  the  palace,  and  with  some  difficulty  made  their  way 
thiough  the  crowded  streets. 

The  one  in  the  dress  and  short  hair  imitated  from  the 
Norman,  wTas  our  old  friend  Godrith,  whom  the  reader 
may  remember  as  the  rebuker  of  Taillefer,  and  the  friend 
of  Mallet  de  Graville  ;  the  other,  in  a  plain  linen  Saxon 
tunic,  and  the  gonna  worn  on  state  occasions,  to  which 
he  seemed  unfamiliar,  but  with  heavy  gold  bracelets  on 
his  arms,  long  haired  and  bearded,  was  Yebba,  the 
Kentish  thegn,  who  had  served  as  nuncius  from  Godwin 
to  Edward. 

"  Troth  and  faith  ! "  said  Yebba,  wiping  his  brow, 
"this  crowd  is  enow  to  make  plain  man  stark  wode.  I 
would  not  live  in  London  for  all  the  gauds  in  the  gold- 
smiths' shops,  or  all  the  treasures  in  King  Edward's 
vaults.  My  tongue  is  as  parched  as  a  hay-field  in  the 
weyd-month.*  Holy  Mother  be  blessed  !  I  see  a  cumen- 
h/usf  open  ;  let  us  in  and  refresh  ourselves  writh  a  horn 
of  ale." 

*  Weyd  month.  Meadow-month,  June.      f  Cumen-hus.  Tavern. 


216  HAROLD. 

"  Nay,  friend,"  quoth  Godrith,  with  a  slight  disdain, 
"such  are  not  the  resorts  of  men  of  our  rank.  Tarry 
yet  awhile,  till  we  arrive  near  the  bridge  by  the  river 
side  ;  there,  indeed,  you  will  find  worthy  company  and 
dainty  cheer." 

"Well,  well,  I  am  at  your  hest,  Godrith,"  said  the 
Kent  man,  sighing  :  "my  wife  and  my  sons  will  be  sure 
to  ask  me  what  sights  I  have  seen,  and  I  may  as  well 
know  from  thee  the  last  tricks  and  ways  of  this  hurly- 
burly  town." 

Godrith,  who  was  master  of  all  the  fashions  in  the 
reign  of  our  lord  King  Edward,  smiled  graciously,  and 
the  two  proceeded  in  silence,  only  broken  by  the  sturdy 
Kent  man's  exclamations  ;  now  of  anger  when  rudely 
jostled,  now  of  wonder  and  delight  when,  amidst  the 
throng,  he  caught  sight  of  a  glee-man,  with  his  bear  or 
monkey,  who  took  advantage  of  some  space  near  con- 
vent garden,  or  Roman  ruin,  to  exhibit  his  craft ;  till 
they  gained  a  long  low  row  of  booths,  most  pleasantly 
situated  to  the  left  of  this  side  London  bridge,  and  which 
was  appropriated  to  the  celebrated  cook-shops,  that  even 
to  the  time  of  Fitzstephen  retained  their  fame  and  their 
fashion. 

Between  the  shops  and  the  river,  was  a  space  of  grass 
worn  brown  and  bare  by  the  feet  of  the  customers,  with 
a  few  clipped  trees  with  vines  trained  from  one  to  the 
other  in  arcades,  under  cover  of  which  were  set  tables 
and  settles.  The  place  was  thickly  crowded,  and  but  for 
Godrith's  popularity  amongst  the  attendants,  they  might 
have  found  it  difficult  to  obtain  accommodation.     How- 


HAROLD.  277 

ever,  a  new  table  was  soon  brought  forth,  placed  close 
by  the  cool  margin  of  the  water,  and  covered  in  a  trice 
with  tankards  of  hippocras,  pigment,  ale,  and  some  Gas- 
con, as  well  as  British  wines  ;  varieties  of  the  delicious 
cake-bread  for  which  England  was  then  renowned  ;  while 
viands  strange  to  the  honest  eye  and  taste  of  the  wealthy 
Kent  man,  were  served  on  spits. 

"  What  bird  is  this  ?  "  said  he,  grumbling. 

"  Oh,  enviable  man,  it  is  a  Phrygian  attagen  *  that 
thou  art  about  to  taste  for  the  first  time  ;  and  when  thou 
hast  recovered  that  delight,  I  commend  to  thee  a  Moorish 
compound,  made  of  eggs  and  roes  of  carp  from  the  old 
Southweorc  stewponds,  which  the  cooks  here  dress  no- 
tably." 

"  Moorish  !  —  Holy  Yirgin  ! "  cried  Yebba,  with  his 
mouth  full  of  the  Phrygian  attagen,  "how  came  anything 
Moorish  in  our  Christian  island  ? " 

Godrith  laughed  outright. 

"  Why,  our  cook  here  is  Moorish  ;  the  best  singers  in 
London  are  Moors.  Look  yonder !  see  those  grave 
comely  Saracens  ?  " 

"  Comely,  quotha,  burnt  and  black  as  a  charred  pine- 
pole  ! n  grunted  Yebba  ;   "  well,  who  are  they  ?  P 

"  Wealthy  traders;  thanks  to  whom,  our  pretty  maids 
have  risen  high  in  the  market." "j* 


*  Fitzstephen. 

j-  William  of  Malmesbury  speaks  with  just  indignation  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  custom  of  selling  female  servants,  either  to  public 
prostitution  or  foreign  slavery. 

L— 24 


278  HAROLD 

"More  the  shame, "  said  the  Kent  man  ;  "that  selling 
of  English  youth  to  foreign  mastery  whether  male  or 
female,  is  a  blot  on  the  Saxon  name." 

"  So  saith  Harold  our  Earl,  and  so  preach  the  monks," 

returned  Godrith.     "  But  thou,  my  good  friend,  who  art 

fond  of  all  things  that  our  ancestors  did,  and  hast  sneered 

more  than  once  at  my  Norman  robe  and  cropped  hair. 

thou  shouldst  not  be  the  one  to  find  fault  with  what  our 

fathers  have  done  since  the  days  of  Cerdic." 
i 

"Hem,"  said  the  Kent  man,  a  little  perplexed,  "cer- 
tainly old  manners  are  the  best,  and  I  suppose  there  is 
some  good  reason  for  this  practice,  which  I,  who  never 
trouble  myself  about  matters  that  concern  me  not,  do  not 
see." 

"  Well,  Yebba,  and  how  likest  thou  the  Atheling  ?  he 
is  of  the  old  line,"  said  Godrith. 

Again  the  Kent  man  looked  perplexed,  and  had  re- 
course to  the  ale,  which  he  preferred  to  all  more  delicate 
liquor,  before  he  replied  — 

"Why,  he  speaks  English  worse  than  King  Edward  ! 
and  as  for  his  boy  Edgar,  the  child  can  scarce  speak  Eng- 
lish at  all.  And  then  their  German  carles  and  cnehts ! 
—An'  I  had  known  what  manner  of  folk  they  were,  I  had 
not  spent  my  mancuses  in  running  from  my  homestead  to 
give  them  the  welcome.  But  they  told  me  that  Harold 
the  good  Earl  had  made  the  king  send  for  them  ;  and 
whatever  the  earl  counselled,  must  I  thought  be  wise,  and 
to  the  weal  of  sweet  England." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Godrith  with  earnest  emphasis, 


HAROLD.  279 

for,  with  all  his  affectation  of  Norman  manners,  he  was  \J 
thoroughly  English  at  heart,  and  was  now  among  the 
staunchest  supporters  of  Harold,  who  had  become  no  less 
the  pattern  and  pride  of  the  young  nobles  than  the  dar- 
ling of  the  humbler  population,  —  "  that  is  true  —  and 
Harold  showed  us  his  noble  English  heart  when  he  so 
urged  the  king  to  his  own  loss." 

As  Godrith  thus  spoke,  nay,  from  the  first  mention  of 
Harold's  name,  two  men  richly  clad,  but  with  their  bon- 
nets drawn  far  over  their  brows,  and  their  long  gonnas 
so  worn  as  to  hide  their  forms,  who  were  seated  at  a  table 
behind  Godrith  and  had  thus  escaped  his  attention,  had 
paused  from  their  wine-cups,  and  they  now  listened  with 
much  earnestness  to  the  conversation  that  followed. 

"  How  to  the  earl's  loss  ?  "  asked  Yebba. 

"Why,  simple  thegn,"  answered  Godrith,  "why,  sup- 
pose that  Edward  had  refused  to  acknowledge  the  Athel- 
ing  as  his  heir,  suppose  the  Atheling  had  remained  in  the 
German  court,  and  our  good  king  died  suddenly,  —  who, 
thinkest  thou,  could  succeed  to  the  English  throne  ?  " 

"Marry,  I  have  never  thought  of  that  at  all,"  said  the 
Kent  man,  scratching  his  head. 

"No,  nor  have  the  English  generally;  yet  whom  could 
we  choose  but  Harold  ?  "  ^ 

A  sudden  start  from  one  of  the  listeners  was  checked 
by  the  warning  finger  of  the  other ;  and  the  Kent  man 
exclaimed  — 

"Body  o'  me  !  But  we  have  never  chosen  king  (save 
the  Danes)  out  of  the  line  of  Cerdic.     These  be  new 


280  HAROLD. 

cranks,  with  a  \  mgeance  :  we  shall  be  choosing  German, 
or  Saracen,  or  Norman  next." 

"  Out  of  the  line  of  Cerdic  !  but  that  line  is  gone, 
root  and  branch,  save  the  Atheling,  and  he,  thou  seest, 
is  more  German  than  English.  Again  I  say,  failing  the 
Atheling,  whom  could  we  choose  but  Harold,  brother-in- 
law  to  the  king  ;  descended  through  Githa  from  the  royal- 
ties of  the  Norse,  the  head  of  all  armies  under  the  Herr- 
ban,  the  chief  who  has  never  fought  without  victory,  yet 
who  has  always  preferred  conciliation  to  conquest  —  the 
Arst  counsellor  in  the  Witan  —  the  first  man  in  the  realm 
—  who  but  Harold?  answer  me,  staring  Yebba." 

"  I  take  in  thy  words  slowly,"  said  the  Kent  man, 
shaking  his  head,  "  and  after  all,  it  matters  little  who  is 
king,  so  he  be  a  good  one.  Yes,  I  see  now  that  the  earl 
was  a  just  and  generous  man  when  he  made  the  king 
send  for  the  Atheling.  Drink-hsel !  long  life  to  them 
both  ! » 

"  Was-hael,"  answered  Godrith,  draining  his  hippocras 
to  Yebba's  more  potent  ale.  "  Long  life  to  them  both  1 
may  Edward  the  Atheling  reign,  but  Harold  the  Earl 
rule  !  Ah,  then,  indeed,  we  may  sleep  without  fear  of 
fierce  Algar  and  still  fiercer  Gryftyth  the  Walloon — who 
bow,  it  is  true,  are  stilled  for  the  moment,  thanks  io 
Harold  —  but  not  more  still  than  the  smooth  waters  in 
Gwyned,  that  lie  just  above  the  rush  of  a  torrent." 

"So  little  news  hear  I,"  said  Vebba,  "and  in  Kent  so 
little  are  we  plagued  with  the  troubles  elsewhere  (for 
there  Harold  governs  us,  and  the  hawks  come  not  where 


HAROLD.  281 

the  eagles  hold  eyrie  !) — that  I  will  thank  thee  to  tell  m« 
something  about  our  old  earl  for  a  year,*  Algar  the  rest- 
less, and  this  Gryffyth  the  Welch  king,  so  that  I  may 
seem  a  wise  man  when  I  go  back  to  my  homestead." 

t*  Why,  thou  knowest  at  least  that  Algar  and  Harold 
were  ever  opposed  in  the  Witan,  and  hot  words  thou  hast 
heard  pass  between  them?" 

"  Marry,  yes  !  But  Algar  was  as  little  match  for  Earl 
Harold  in  speech  as  in  sword-play." 

Now  again  one  of  the  listeners  started  (but  it  was  not 
the  same  as  the  on:  before),  and  muttered  an  angry  ex- 
clamation. 

"Yet  is  he  a  troublesome  foe,"  said  Godrith,  who  did 
not  hear  the  sound  Yebba  had  provoked,  "  and  a  thorn 
in  the  side  both  of  the  earl  and  of  England  ;  and  sorrow 
ful  for  both  England  and  earl  was  it,  that  Harold  refused 
to  marry  Aldyth,  as  it  is  said  his  father,  wise  Godwin, 
counselled  and  wished." 

"Ah  !  but  I  have  heard  scops  and  harpers  sing  pretty 
songs  that  Harold  loves  Edith  the  Fair,  a  wondrous 
proper  maiden,  they  say  !  " 

"  It  is  true  ;  and  for  the  sake  of  his  love,  he  played  ill 
for  his  ambition." 

"I  like  him  the  better  for  that,"  said  the  honest  Kent 
man  :  "  why  does  he  not  marry  the  girl  at  once  ?  she 
hath  broad  lands  I  know,  for  they  run  from  the  Sussex 
shore  into  Kent." 

*  It  will  be  remembered    that  Algar   governed  Wessex,  which 
principality  included  Kent,  during  the  year  of  Godwin's  outlawry. 
24* 


*282  HAROLD. 

14  But  tliej  are  cousins  live  times  removed,  and  the 
Church  forbids  the  marriage  ;  nevertheless  Harold  lives 
only  for  Edith  ;  they  have  exchanged  the  true-lofa,*  and 
it  is  whispered  that  Harold  hopes  the  Atheling,  when  he 
comes  to  be  king,  wiU  get  him  the  pope's  dispensation. 
But  to  return  to  Algar ;  in  a  day  most  unlucky  he  gave 
his  daughter  to  Gryffyth,  the  most  turbulent  sub-king  the 
land  ever  knew,  who,  it  is  said,  will  not  be  content  till  he 
has  won  all  Wales  for  himself  without  homage  or  service, 
and  the  Marches  to  boot.  Some  letters  between  him  and 
Earl  Algar,  to  whom  Harold  had  secured  the  earldom 
of  the  East  Angles,  were  discovered,  and  in  a  Witan  at 
Winchester  thou  wilt  doubtless  have  heard  (for  thou 
didst  not,  I  know,  leave  thy  lands  to  attend  it),  that 
Algar  j"  was  outlawed." 

*  Trulofa,  from  which  comes  our  popular  corruption  "  true 
lover's  knot,"  &  veteri  Danico  trulofa,  i.  e.  /idem  do,  to  pledge  faith. 
—  Hickes'  Thesaur. 

"  A  knot,  among  the  ancient  northern  nations,  seems  to  have 
been  the  emblem  of  love,  faith,  and  friendship."  —  Brande's  Pop. 
Anliq. 

f  The  Saxon  Chronicle  contradicts  itself  as  to  Algar's  outlawry, 
stating  in  one  passage  that  he  was  outlawed  without  any  kind  of 
guilt,  and  in  another  that  he  was  outlawed  as  swike,  or  traitor,  and 
that  he  made  a  confession  of  it  before  all  the  men  there  gathered. 
His  treason,  however,  seems  naturally  occasioned  by  his  close  con- 
nection with  Gryffyth,  and  proved  by  his  share  in  that  king's  re- 
bellion. Some  of  our  historians  have  unfairly  assumed  that  his  out- 
lawry was  at  Harold's  instigation.  Of  this  there  is  not  only  no 
proof,  but  one  of  the  best  authorities  among  the  chroniclers  saya 
just  the  contrary,  —  that  Harold  did  all  he  could  to  intercede  for 
him ;  and  it  is  certain  that  he  was  fairly  tried  and  condemned  by 
tie  Witan,  and  afterwards  restored  by  the  concurrent  articles  of 


HAROLD.  283 

"  Oh,  yes,  these  are  stale  tidings ;  I  heard  thus  much 
from  a  palmer  —  and  then  Algar  got  ships  from  the 
Irish,  sailed  to  North  Wales,  and  beat  Rolf,  the  Norman 
Earl,  at  Hereford.  Oh  yes,  I  heard  that,  and,"  added  the 
Kent  man  laughing,  Ml  was  not  sorry  to  hear  that  my  old 
Earl  Algar,  since  he  is  a  good  and  true  Saxon,  beat  the 
cowardly  Norman,  —  more  shame  to  the  king  for  giving 
a  Norman  the  ward  of  the  Marches  ! " 

"It  was  a  sore  defeat  to  the  king  and  to  England," 
said  Godrith,  gravely.  "  The  great  Minster  of  Hereford, 
built  by  King  Athelstan,  was  burned  and  sacked  by  the 
Welch  ;  and  the  Crown  itself  was  in  danger,  when  Harold 
came  up  at  the  head  of  the  Fyrd.  Hard  is  it  to  tell  the 
distress  and  the  marching  and  the  camping,  and  the 
travail,  and  destruction  of  men,  and  also  of  horses,  which 
the  English  endured  *  till  Harold  came ;  and  then, 
luckily,  came  also  the  good  old  Leofric,  and  Bishop 
Aired,  the  peace-maker,  and  so  strife  was  patched  up  — 
Gryffyth  swore  oaths  of  faith  to  King  Edward,  and  Algar 
was  inlawed ;  and  there  for  the  nonce  rests  the  matter 
now.  But  well  I  ween  that  Gryffyth  will  never  keep 
troth  with  the  English,  and  that  no  hand  less  strong  than 
Harold's  can  keep  in  check  a  spirit  as  fiery  as  Algar's : 
herefore  did  I  wish  that  Harold  might  be  king." 

"Well,"  quoth  the  honest  Kent  man,  "I  hope,  never- 

agreement  between  Harold  and  Leofric.     Harold's  policy  with  hia 
own  countrymen  stands  out  very  markedly  prominent  in  the  annals 
of  the  time ;  it  was  invariably  that  of  conciliation. 
*  Saxon  Chron.,  verbatim. 


284  HAROLD. 

theless,  that  Algar  will  sow  his  wild  oats,  and  leave  the 
Walloons  to  grow  the  hemp  for  their  own  halters  ;  for, 
though  he  is  not  of  the  height  of  our  Harold,  he  is  a  true 
Saxon,  and  we  liked  him  well  enow  when  he  ruled  us. 
And  how  is  our  earPs  brother,  Tostig,  esteemed  by  the 
Northmen  ?  It  must  be  hard  to  please  those  who  had 
Siward  of  the  strong  arm  for  their  earl  before." 

"Why,  at  first,  when  (at  Siward's  death  in  the  wars 
for  young  Malcolm)  Harold  secured  to  Tostig  the  North- 
umbrian earldom,  Tostig  went  by  his  brother's  counsel 
and  ruled  well  and  won  favor.  Of  late  I  hear  that  the 
Northmen  murmur.  Tostig  is  a  man  indeed  dour  and 
haughty." 

After  a  few  more  questions  and  answers  on  the  news 
of  the  day,  Yebba  rose  and  said,  — 

"  Thanks  for  thy  good  fellowship ;  it  is  time  for  me 
now  to  be  jogging  homeward.  I  left  my  ceorls  and 
horses  on  the  other  side  the  river,  and  must  go  after 
them.  And  now  forgive  me  my  bluntness,  fellow  thegn, 
but  ye  young  courtiers  have  plenty  of  need  for  your 
mancuses,  and  when  a  plain  countryman  like  me  comes 
sight-seeing,  he  ought  to  stand  payment ;  wherefore," 
here  he  took  from  his  belt  a  great  leathern  purse,  "  where- 
fore, as  these  outlandish  birds  and  heathenish  puddings 
must  be  dear  fare " 

"How!"  said  Godrith,  reddening,  "thinkest  thou  so 
meanly  of  us  thegns  of  Middlesex,  as  to  deem  we  cannot 
entertain   thus  humbly  a  friend  from  a  distance  ?     Ye 


HAROLD.  285 

Kent  men  I  know  are  rich.     But  keep  your  pennies  to 
buy  stuffs  for  your  wife,  my  friend." 

The  Kent  man,  seeing  he  had  displeased  his  compan- 
ion, did  not  press  his  liberal  offer,  —  put  up  his  purse, 
and  suffered  Godrith  to  pay  the  reckoning.  Then,  as  the 
two  thegns  shook  hands,  he  said,  — 
.  "But  I  should  like  to  have  said  a  kind  word  or  so  to 
Earl  Harold  —  for  he  was  too  busy  and  too  great  for  me 
to  come  across  him  in  the  old  palace  yonder.  I  have  a 
mind  to  go  back  and  look  for  him  at  his  own  house." 

"  You  will  not  find  him  there,"  said  Godrith,  "  for  I 
know  that  as  soon  as  he  hath  finished  his  conference  with 
the  Atheling,  he  will  leave  the  city  ;  and  I  shall  be  at  his 
own  favorite  manse  over  the  water  at  sunset,  to  take 
orders  for  repairing  the  forts  and  dykes  on  the  Marches. 
You  can  tarry  awhile  and  meet  us ;  you  know  his  old 
lodge  in  the  forest  land  ?  " 

"  Nay,  I  must  be  back  and  at  home  ere  night,  for  all 
things  go  wrong  when  the  master  is  away.  Yet,  indeed, 
my  good  wife  will  scold  me  for  not  having  shaken  hands 
with  the  handsome  earl."- 

"Thou  shalt  not  come  under  that  sad  infliction,"  said 
the  good-natured  Godrith,  who  was  pleased  with  the 
thegn's  devotion  to  Harold,  and  who,  knowing  the  great 
weight  which  Yebba  (homely  as  he  seemed)  carried  in 
his  important  county,  was  politically  anxious  that  the 
earl  should  humor  so  sturdy  a  friend,  —  "Thou  shalt  not 
gour  thy  wife's  kiss,  man.     For  look  you,  as  you  ride 


286  HAROLD. 

back  you  will  pass  by  a  large  old  house,  with  broken 
columns  at  the  back." 

"  I  have  marked  it  well,"  said  the  thegn,  "  when  I  have 
gone  that  way,  with  a  heap  of  queer  stones,  on  a  little 
hillock,  which  they  say  the  witches  or  the  Britons  heaped 
together. " 

"  The  same.  When  Harold  leaves  London,  I  trow 
well  towards  that  house  will  his  road  wend  ;  for  there 
lives  Edith  the  swan's  neck,  with  her  awful  grandma,  the 
Wicca.  If  thou  art  there  a  little  after  noon,  depend  on 
it  thou  wilt  see  Harold  riding  that  way." 

"  Thank  thee  heartily,  friend  Godrith,"  said  Yebba, 
taking  his  leave,  "and  forgive  my  bluntness  if  I  laughed 
at  thy  cropped  head,  for  I  see  thou  art  as  good  a  Saxon 
as  ere  a  franklin g  of  Kent — and  so  the  saints  keep  thee." 

Yebba  then  strode  briskly  over  the  bridge  ;  and  God- 
rith, animated  by  the  wine  he  had  drunk,  turned  gaily 
on  his  heel  to  look  amongst  the  crowded  tables  for  some 
chance  friend,  with  whom  to  while  away  an  hour  or  so, 
at  the  games  of  hazard  then  in  vogue. 

Scarce  had  he  turned,  when  the  two  listeners,  who, 
having  paid  their  reckoning,  had  moved  under  shade  of 
one  of  the  arcades,  dropped  into  a  boat  which  they  had 
summoned  to  the  margin,  by  a  noiseless  signal,  and  were 
rowed  over  the  water.  They  preserved  a  silence  which 
seemed  thoughtful  and  gloomy  until  they  reached  the 
opposite  shore  :  then,  one  of  them,  pushing  back  his 
bonnet,  showed  the  sharp  and  haughty  features  of  Algar. 

"Well,  friend  of  Gryffyth,"  said  he,  with  a  bitter  ac- 


HAROLD.  231 

cent,  u  thou  hearest  that  Earl  Harold  counts  s  D  little  on 
the  oaths  of  thy  king,  that  he  intends  to  fortify  the 
Marches  against  him  ;  and  thou  hearest  also,  that  nought 
save  a  life,  as  fragile  as  the  reed  which  thy  feet  are 
trampling,  stands  between  the  throne  of  England  and 
the 'only  Englishman  who  could  ever  have  humbled  my 
son-in-law  to  swear  oath  of  service  to  Edward." 

"  Shame  upon  that  hour,"  said  the  other,  whose  speech, 
as  well  as  the  gold  collar  round  his  neck,  and  the  peculiar 
fashion  of  his  hair,  betokened  him  to  be  Welch.  "Little 
did  I  think  that  the  great  son  of  Llewellyn,  whom  our 
bards  had  set  above  Roderic  Mawr,  would  ever  have  ac- 
knowledged the  sovereignty  of  the  Saxon  over  the  hills 
of  Cymry." 

11  Tut,  Meredydd,"  anwered  Algar,  "  thou  knowest  well 
that  no  Cymrian  ever  deems  himself  dishonored  by  break- 
ing faith  with  the  Saxon ;  and  we  shall  yet  see  the  lions 
of  Gryffyth  scaring  the  sheep-folds  of  Hereford." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Meredydd,  fiercely.  "And  Harold 
shall  give  to  his  Atheling  the  Saxon  land,  shorn  at  least 
of  the  Cymrian  kingdom." 

"  Meredydd,"  said  Algar,  with  a  seriousness  that 
seemed  almost  solemn,  "no  Atheling  wall  live  to  rule 
these  realms  !  Thou  knowest  that  I  was  one  of  the  first 
to  hail  the  news  of  his  coming  —  I  hastened  to  Dover  to 
meet  him.  Methought  I  saw  death  writ  on  his  counte- 
nance, and  I  bribed  the  German  leach  who  attends  him 
to  answer  my  questions  ;  the  Atheling  knows  it  not,  but 
he  bears  within  him  the  seeds  of  a  mortal  complaint. 


288  HAROLD. 

Thou  wottest  well  what  cause  I  have  to  hate  Earl  Ha- 
rold ;  and  were  I  the  only  man  to  oppose  his  way  to  the 
throne,  he  should  not  ascend  it  but  over  my  corpse.  But 
when  Godrith,  his  creature,  spoke,  I  felt  that  he  spoke 
the  truth  ;  and,  the  Atheling  dead,  on  no  head  but  Ha- 
rold's can  fall  the  crown  of  Edward." 

"  Ha  !  "  said  the  Cymrian  chief,  gloomily  ;  "  thinkest 
thou  so  indeed  ?" 

"I  think  it  not;  I  know  it.  And  for  that  reason, 
Meredydd,  we  must  wait  not  till  he  wields  against  us  all 
the  royalty  of  England.  As  yet,  while  Edward  lives, 
there  is  hope.  For  the  king  loves  to  spend  wealth  on 
relics  and  priests,  and  is  slow  when  the  mancuses  are 
wanted  for  fighting-men.  The  king  too,  poor  man  !  is 
not  so  ill  pleased  at  my  outbursts  as  he  would  fain  have 
it  thought !  he  thinks,  by  pitting  earl  against  earl,  that 
he  himself  is  the  stronger.*  While  Edward  lives,  there- 
fore, Harold's  arm  is  half-crippled  ;  wherefore,  Meredydd, 
ride  thou,  with  good  speed,  back  to  King  Gryffyth,  and 
tell  him  all  I  have  told  thee.  Tell  him  that  our  time  to 
strike  the  blow  and  renew  the  war  will  be  amidst  the 
dismay  and  confusion  that  the  Atheling's  death  will  occa- 
sion. Tell  him,  that  if  we  can  entangle  Harold  himself 
in  the  Welch  defiles,  it  will  go  hard  but  what  we  shall 
Jnd  some  arrow  or  dagger  to  pierce  the  heart  of  the  in- 
vader. And  were  Harold  but  slain — who  then  would  be 
king  in  England  ?     The  line  of  Cerdic  gone — the  house 

*  Hume. 


N  HAROLD.  289 

of  Godwin  lost  in  Earl  Harold,  (for  Tostig  is  hated  in 
his  own  domain,  Leofwine  is  too  light,  and  Gurth  is  too 
saintly  for  such  ambition) — who  then,  I  say,  can  be  king 
in  England  but  Algar,  the  heir  of  the  great  Leofric  ? 
And  I,  as  king  of  England,  will  set  all  Cymry  free,  and 
restore  to  the  realm  of  Gryffyth  the  shires  of  Hereford 
and  Worcester.  Ride  fast,  O  Meredydd,  and  heed  well 
all  I  have  said." 

"  Dost  thou  promise  and  swear,  that  wert  thou  king 
of  England,  Cymry  should  be  free  from  all  service  ?" 

"  Free  as  air,  free  as  under  Arthur  and  Uther;  I  swear 
it.  And  remember  well  how  Harold  addressed  the  Cym- 
rian  chiefs,  when  he  accepted  Gryffyth's  oaths  of  ser- 
vice.'' 

"  Remember  it — ay,"  cried  Meredydd,  his  face  lighting 
up  with  intense  ire  and  revenge  ;  "the  stern  Saxon  said, 
*■  Heed  well,  ye  chiefs  of  Cymry,  and  thou  Gryffyth  the 
king,  that  if  again  ye  force,  by  ravage  and  rapine,  by 
sacrilege  and  murther,  the  majesty  of  England  to  enter 
your  borders,  duty  must  be  done  :  God  grant  that  your 
Cymrian  lion  may  leave  us  in  peace  —  if  not,  it  is  mercy 
to  human  life  that  bids  us  cut  the  talons  and  draw  the 
fangs.' " 

"Harold,  like  all  calm  and  mild  men,  ever  says  less 
than  he  means,"  returned  Algar;  "and  were  Harold 
king,  small  pretext  would  he  need  for  cutting  the  talons, 
and  drawing  the  fangs." 

"It  is  well,"  said  Meredydd,  with  a  fierce  smile.     "I 

I. —25  t 


290  HAROLD. 

will  now  go  to  my  men  who  are  lodged  yonder ;  and  it  is 
better  that  thou  shouldst  not  be  seen  with  me." 

"  Right ;  so  St.  David  be  with  you — and  forget  not  a 
word  of  my  message  to  Gryffyth,  my  son-in-law." 

"  Not  a  word,"  returned  Meredydd,  as  with  a  wave 
of  his  hand  he  moved  towards  an  hostelry,  to  which,  as 
kept  by  one  of  their  own  countrymen,  the  Welch  habit- 
ually resorted  in  the  visits  to  the  capital  which  the  va- 
rious intrigues  and  dissensions  in  their  unhappy  land 
made  frequent. 

The  chief's  train,  which  consisted  of  ten  men,  all  of 
high  birth,  were  not  drinking  in  the  tavern  —  for  sorry 
customers  to  mine  host  were  the  abstemious  Welch. 
Stretched  on  the  grass  under  the  trees  of  an  orchard  that 
backed  the  hostelry,  and  utterly  indifferent  to  all  the 
rejoicings  that  animated  the  population  of  Southwark 
and  London,  they  were  listening  to  a  wild  song  of  the 
old  hero-days  from  one  of  their  number  ;  and  round  them 
grazed  the  rough  shagged  ponies  which  they  had  used 
for  their  journey.  Meredydd,  approaching,  gazed  round, 
and  seeing  no  stranger  was  present,  raised  his  hand  to 
hush  the  song,  and  then  addressed  his  countrymen  briefly 
in  Welch,  —  briefly,  but  with  a  passion  that  was  evident 
in  his  flashing  eyes  and  vehement  gestures.  The  passion 
was  contagious  ;  they  all  sprang  to  their  feet  with  a  low 
but  fierce  cry,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  had  caught  and 
saddled  their  diminutive  palfreys,  while  one  of  the  band, 
who  seemed  singled  out  by  Meredydd,  sallied  forth  alone 
from  the  orchard,  and  took  his  way,  on  foot,  to  the  bridge. 


HAROLD.  291 

He  did  not  tarry  there  long  ;  at  the  sight  of  a  single 
horseman,  whom  a  shout  of  welcome,  on  that  swarming 
thoroughfare,  proclaimed  to  be  Earl  Harold,  the  Welch- 
man  turned,  and  with  a  fleet  foot  regained  his  com- 
panions. 

Meanwhile  Harold,  smilingly,  returned  the  greetings 
he  received,  cleared  the  bridge,  passed  the  suburbs,  and 
soon  gained  the  wild  forest  land  that  lay  along  the 
great  Kentish  road.  He  rode  somewhat  slowly,  for  he 
was  evidently  in  deep  thought ;  and  he  had  arrived  about 
halt-way  towards  Hilda's  house,  when  he  heard  behind 
quick  pattering  sounds,  as  of  small  unshod  hoofs :  he 
turned  and  saw  the  Welchmen  at  the  distance  of  some 
fifty  yards.  But  at  that  moment  there  passed,  along  the 
road  in  front,  several  persons  bustling  into  London  to 
share  in  the  festivities  of  the  day.  This  seemed  to  dis- 
concert the  Welch  in  the  rear  ;  and,  after  a  few  whispered 
words,  they  left  the  high  road  and  entered  the  forest 
land.  Various  groups  from  time  to  time  continued  to 
pass  along  the  thoroughfare.  But  still,  ever  through  the 
glades,  Harold  caught  glimpses  of  the  riders :  now  dis- 
tant, now  near.  Sometimes  he  heard  the  snort  of  their 
small  horses,  and  saw  a  fierce  eye  glaring  through  the 
bushes ;  then,  as  at  the  sight  or  sound  of  approaching 
passengers,  the  riders  wheeled,  and  shot  off  through  the 
brakes. 

The  Earl's  suspicions  were  aroused;  for  (though  he 
knew  of  no  enemy  to  apprehend,  and  the  extreme  severity 
of  the  laws  against  robbers  made  the  high-roads  much 


292  HAROLD. 

safer  in  the  latter  days  of  the  Saxon  domination  than 
they  were  for  centuries  under  that  of  the  subsequent 
dynasty,  when  Saxon  thegns  themselves  had  turned  kings 
of  the  greenwood,)  the  various  insurrections  in  Edward's 
reign  had  necessarily  thrown  upon  society  many  turbulent 
disbanded  mercenaries. 

Harold  was  unarmed,  save  the  spear  which,  even  on 
occasions  of  state,  the  Saxon  noble  rarely  laid  aside,  and 
the  ateghar  in  his  belt ;  and,  seeing  now  that  the  road 
had  become  deserted,  he  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  was 
just  in  sight  of  the  Druid  Temple,  when  a  javelin  whizzed 
close  by  his  breast,  and  another  transfixed  his  horse, 
which  fell  head-foremost  to  the  ground. 

The  earl  gained  his  feet  in  an  instant,  and  that  haste 
was  needed  to  save  his  life ;  for  while  he  rose  ten  swords 
flashed  around  him.  The  Welchmen  had  sprung  from 
their  palfreys  as  Harold's  horse  fell.  Fortunately  for 
him,  only  two  of  the  party  bore  javelins  (a  weapon  which 
the  Welch  wielded  with  deadly  skill)  and,  those  already 
wasted,  they  drew  their  short  swords,  which  were  pro- 
bably imitated  from  the  Romans,  and  rushed  upon  him 
in  simultaneous  onset.  Yersed  in  all  the  weapons  of  the 
time,  with  his  right  hand  seeking  by  his  spear  to  keep 
off  the  rush,  with  the  ateghar  in  his  left  parrying  the 
strokes  aimed  at  him,  the  brave  earl  transfixed  the  first 
assailant,  and  sore  wounded  the  next ;  but  his  tunic  was 
dyed  red  with  three  gashes,  and  his  sole  chance  of  life 
was  in  the  power  yet  left  him  to  force  his  way  through 
the  ring.     Dropping  his  spear,  shifting  his  ateghar  into 


HAROLD.  293 

the  right  hand,  wrapping  round  his  left  arm  his  gonna  as 
a  shield,  he  sprang  fiercely  on  the  onslaught,  and  on  the 
flashing  swords.  Pierced  to  the  heart  fell  one  of  his 
foes  —  dashed  to  the  earth  another  —  from  the  hand  of  a 
third  (dropping  his  own  ateghar)  he  wrenched  the  sword. 
Loud  rose  Harold's  cry  for  aid,  and  swiftly  he  strode 
towards  the  hillock,  turning  back,  and  striking  as  he 
turned  ;  and  again  fell  a  foe,  and  again  new  blood  oozed 
through  his  own  garb.  At  that  moment  his  cry  was 
echoed  by  a  shriek  so  sharp  and  so  piercing  that  it 
startled  the  assailants,  it  arrested  the  assault ;  and,  ere 
the  unequal  strife  could  be  resumed,  a  woman  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  fray  ;  —  a  woman  stood  dauntless  between 
the  earl  and  his  foes. 

"  Back  !  Edith.  Oh,  God  !  Back,  back  !  "  cried  the 
earl,  recovering  all  his  strength  in  the  sole  fear  which 
that  strife  had  yet  stricken  into  his  bold  heart ;  and  draw- 
ing Edith  aside  with  his  strong  arm,  he  again  confronted 
the  assailants 

"Die!"  cried,  in  the  Cymrian  tongue,  the  fiercest  of 
the  foes,  whose  sword  had  already  twice  drawn  the  earl's 
blood  ;   "  die,  that  Cymry  may  be  free  ! " 

Meredydd  sprang,  with  him  sprang  the  survivors  of 
his  band  ;  and,  by  a  sudden  movement,  Edith  had  thrown 
herself  on  Harold's  breast,  leaving  his  right  arm  free,  but 
sheltering  his  form  with  her  own. 

At  that  sight  every  sword  rested  still  in  air.     These 
Cymrians,  hesitating  not  at  the  murder  of  the  man  whose 
death  seemed  to  their  false  virtue  a  sacrifice  due  to  their 
25* 


294  HAROLD. 

hopes  of  freedom,  were  still  the  descendants  of  Heroes, 
and  the  children  of  noble  Song,  and  their  swords  were 
harmless  against  a  woman.  The  same  pause  which  saved 
the  life  of  Harold,  saved  that  of  Meredydd,  for  the 
Cymrian's  lifted  sword  had  left  his  breast  defenceless, 
and  Harold,  despite  his  wrath,  and  his  fears  for  Edith' 
touched  by  that  sudden  forbearance,  forbore  himself  the 
blow. 

"  Why  seek  ye  my  life  ?  "  said  he.  "  Whom  in  broad 
England  hath  Harold  wronged?" 

That  speech  broke  the  charm,  revived  the  suspense  of 
vengeance.  With  a  sudden  aim,  Meredydd  smote  at 
the  head  which  Edith's  embrace  left  unprotected.  The 
sword  shivered  on  the  steel  of  that  which  parried  the 
stroke,  and  the  next  moment,  pierced  to  the  heart,  Mere- 
dydd fell  to  the  earth,  bathed  in  his  gore.  Even  as  ho 
fell,  aid  was  at  hand.  The  ceorls  in  the  Roman  house 
had  caught  the  alarm,  and  were  hurrying  down  the  knoll, 
with  arms  snatched  in  haste,  while  a  loud  whoop  broke 
from  the  forest  land  hard  by ;  and  a  troop  of  horse, 
headed  by  Yebba,  rushed  through  the  bushes  and  brakes. 
Those  of  the  Welch  still  surviving,  no  longer  animated 
by  their  fiery  chief,  turned  on  the  instant,  and  fled  with 
that  wonderful  speed  of  foot  which  characterized  their 
active  race ;  calling,  as  they  fled,  to  their  Welch  pigmy 
steeds,  which,  snorting  loud,  and  lashing  out,  came  at 
once  to  the  call.  Seizing  the  nearest  at  hand,  the  fugi- 
tives sprang  to  selle,  while  the  animals  unchosen,  paused 
by  the  corpses  of  their  former  riders,  neighing  piteously, 


HAROLD.  295 

and  shaking  their  long  manes.  And  then,  after  wheeling 
round  and  round  the  coming  horsemen,  with  many  a 
plunge,  and  lash,  and  savage  cry,  they  darted  after  their 
companions,  and  disappeared  amongst  the  bush-wood. 
Some  of  the  Kentish  men  gave  chase  to  the  fugitives, 
but  in  vain  ;  for  the  nature  of  the  ground  favored  flight. 
Yebba,  and  the  rest,  now  joined  by  Hilda's  lithsmen, 
gained  the  spot  where  Harold,  bleeding  fast,  yet  strove 
to  keep  his  footing,  and,  forgetful  of  his  own  wounds, 
was  joyfully  assuring  himself  of  Edith's  safety.  Yebba 
dismounted,  and  recognizing  the  earl,  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Saints  in  heaven  !  are  we  in  time  ?  •  You  bleed — you 
faint! — Speak,  Lord  Harold.     How  fares  it?" 

"  Blood  enow  yet  left  here  for  our  merrie  England  !  " 
said  Harold,  with  a  smile.  But  as  he  spoke,  his  head 
drooped,  and  he  was  borne  senseless  into  the  house  of 
Hilda. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Yala  met  them  at  the  threshold,  and  testified  so 
little  surprise  at  the  sight  of  the  bleeding  and  uncon- 
scious earl,  that  Yebba,  who  had  heard  strange  tales  of 
Hilda's  unlawful  arts,  half-suspected  that  those  wild-look- 
ing foes,  with  their  uncanny  diminutive  horses,  were  imps 
conjured  by  her  to  punish  a  wooer  to  her  grandchild  — 
who  had  been  perhaps  too  successful  in  the  wooing.    And 


296  HAROLD 

fears  so  reasonable  were  not  a  little  increased  when 
Hilda,  after  leading  the  way  up  the  steep  ladder  to  the 
chamber  in  which  Harold  had  dreamed  his  fearful  dream, 
bade  them  all  depart,  and  leave  the  wounded  man  to  her 
care. 

"  Not  so,"  said  Yebba,  bluffly.  "  A  life  like  this  is  not 
to  be  left  in  the  hands  of  woman,  or  wicca.  I  shall  go 
back  to  the  great  town,  and  summon  the  earl's  own  leach. 
And  I  beg  thee  to  heed,  meanwhile,  that  every  head  in 
this  house  shall  answer  for  Harold's." 

The  great  Yala,  and  high-born  Hleafdian,  little  ac- 
customed to  be  accosted  thus,  turned  round  abruptly, 
with  so  stern  an  eye  and  so  imperious  a  mien,  that  even 
the  stout  Kent  man  felt  abashed.  She  pointed  to  the 
door  opening  on  the  ladder,  and  said,  briefly  :  — 

"  Depart !  Thy  lord's  life  hatb  been  saved  already, 
and  by  woman.     Depart !  " 

"  Depart,  and  fear  not  for  the  earl,  brave  and  true 
friend  in  need,"  said  Edith,  looking  up  from  Harold's 
pale  lips,  over  which  she  bent ;  and  her  sweet  voice  so 
touched  the  good  thegn,  that,  murmuring  a  blessing  on 
her  fair  face,  he  turned  and  departed. 

Hilda  then  proceeded  with  a  light  and  skilful  hand,  to 
examine  the  wounds  of  her  patient.  She  opened  the 
tunic,  and  washed  away  the  blood  from  four  gaping 
orifices  on  the  breast  and  shoulders.  And  as  she  did  so, 
Edith  uttered  a  faint  cry,  and,  falling  on  her  knees, 
bowed  her  head  over  the  drooping  hand,  and  kissed  it 
with  stifling  emotions,  of  which  perhaps  grateful  joy  was 


HAROLD.  291 

the  strongest;  for  over  the  heart  of  Harold  was  punc- 
tured, after  the  fashion  of  the  Saxons,  a  device — and 
that  device  was  the  knot  of  betrothal,  and  in  the  centre 
of  the  knot  was  graven  the  word  "Edith." 


CHAPTER   III. 

Whether  owing  to  Hilda's  runes,  or  to  the  merely 
human  arts  which  accompanied  them,  the  earl's  recovery 
was  rapid,  though  the  great  loss  of  blood  he  had  sus- 
tained left  him  awhile  weak  and  exhausted.  But,  per- 
haps, he  blessed  the  excuse  which  detained  him  still  in 
the  house  of  Hilda,  and  under  the  eyes  of  Edith. 

He  dismissed  the  leach  sent  to  him  by  Yebba,  and 
confided,  not  without  reason  to  the  Yala's  skill.  And 
how  happily  went  his  hours  beneath  the  old  Roman  roof! 

It  was  not  without  a  superstition,  more  characterized, 
however,  by  tenderness  than  awe,  that  Harold  learned 
that  Edith  had  been  undefinably  impressed  with  a  fore- 
boding of  danger  to  her  betrothed,  and  all  that  morning 
she  had  watched  his  coming  from  the  old  legendary  hill. 
Was  it  not  in  that  watch  that  his  good  Fylgia  had  saved 
his  life  ? 

Indeed,  there  seemed  a  strange  truth  in  Hilda's  asser- 
tions, that  in  the  form  of  his  betrothed,  his  tutelary  spirit 
lived  and  guarded.  For  smooth  every  step,  and  bright 
every   day,  in   his   career,  since   their   troth   had   been 

25* 


298  HAROLD. 

plighted.  And  gradually  the  sweet  superstition  had 
mingled  with  human  passion  to  hallow  and  refine  it. 
There  was  a  purity  and  a  depth  in  the  love  of  these  two, 
which,  if  not  uncommon  in  women,  is  most  rare  in  men. 

Harold,  in  sober  truth,  had  learned  to  look  on  Edith 
as  on  his  better  angel ;  and,  calming  his  strong  manly 
heart  in  the  hour  of  temptation,  would  have  recoiled,  as 
a  sacrilege,  from  aught  that  could  have  sullied  that  image 
of  celestial  love.  With  a  noble  and  sublime  patience,  of 
which  perhaps  only  a  character  so  thoroughly  English  in 
its  habits  of  self-control  and  steadfast  endurance  could 
kave  been  capable,  he  saw  the  months  and  the  years  glide 
away,  and  still  contented  himself  with  hope  ;  — hope,  the 
sole  god-like  joy  that  belongs  to  man  ! 

As  the  opinion  of  an  age  influences  even  those  who 
affect  to  despise  it,  so,  perhaps,  this  holy  and  unselfish 
passion  was  preserved  and  guarded  by  that  peculiar 
veneration  for  purity  which  formed  the  characteristic 
fanaticism  of  the  last  days  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  —  when 
still  as  Aldhelm  had  previously  sung  in  Latin  less  barba- 
rous than  perhaps  any  priest  in  the  reign  of  Edward 
co.uld  command,  — 

"Virginitas  castam  servans  sine  crimine  carnem 
Csetera  virtutem  vincit  prseconia  laudi  — 
Spiritus  altithroni  templum  sibi  vindicat  almus ;  "  * 

*"The  chaste  who  blameless  keep  unsullied  fame, 
Transcend  all  other  worth,   all  other  praise. 
The  Spirit,  high  enthroned,   has  made  their  hearts 
His  sacred  temple." 


HAROLD.  299 

when,  amidst  a  great  dissoluteness  of  manners,  alike  com- 
mon to  Church  and  laity,  the  opposite  virtues  were,  as  is 
invariable  in  such  epochs  of  society,  carried  by  the  few 
purer  natures  into  heroic  extremes.  "And  as  gold,  the 
adorner  of  the  world,  springs  from  the  sordid  bosom  of 
earth,  so  chastity,  the  image  of  gold,  rose  bright  and  un- 
sullied from  the  clay  of  human  desire."* 

And  Edith,  though  yet  in  the  tenderest  flush  of  beauti- 
ful youth,  had,  under  the  influence  of  that  sanctifying  and 
scarce  earthly  affection,  perfected  her  full  nature  as 
woman.  She  had  learned  so  to  live  in  Harold's  life,  that 
— less,  it  seemed,  by  study  than  intuition  —  a  knowledge 
graver  than  that  which  belonged  to  her  sex  and  her  time, 
seemed  to  fall  upon  her  soul — fall  as  the  sunlight  falls  on 
the  blossoms,  expanding  their  petals,  and  brightening  the 
glory  of  their  hues. 

Hitherto,  living  under  the  shade  of  Hilda's  dreary 
creed,  Edith,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been  rather  Christian 
by  name  and  instinct  than  acquainted  with  the  doctrines 
of  the  Gospel,  or  penetrated  by  its  faith.  But  the  soul 
of  Harold  lifted  her  own  out  of  the  Yalley  of  the  Shadow 
up  to  the  Heavenly  Hill.  For  the  character  of  their  love 
was  so  pre-eminently  Christian,  so,  by  the  circumstances 
that  surrounded  it  —  so  by  hope  and  self-denial,  elevated 
out  of  the  empire,  not  only  of  the  senses,  but  even  of  that 

Sharon  Turner's  Translation  of  Aldhelm,  vol.  iii.  p.  366.  It  is 
curious  to  see  how,  even  in  Latin,  the  poet  preserves  the  allitera- 
tions that  characterized  the  Saxon  muse. 

*  Slightly  altered  from  Aldheim, 


300  HAROLD. 

sentiment  which  springs  from  them,  and  which  made  the 
sole  refined  and  poetic  element  of  the  heathen's  love,  that 
but  for  Christianity  it  would  have  withered  and  died.  It 
required  all  the  aliment  of  prayer ;  it  needed  that  patient 
endurance  which  comes  from  the  soul's  consciousness  of 
immortality  ;  it  could  not  have  resisted  earth,  but  from 
the  forts  and  armies  it  won  from  heaven.  Thus  from 
Harold  might  Edith  be  said  to  have  taken  her  very  soul. 
And  with  the  soul,  and  through  the  soul,  woke  the  mind 
from  the  mists  of  childhood. 

In  the  intense  desire  to  be  worthy  the  love  of  the  fore- 
most man  of  her  land  ;  to  be  the  companion  of  his  mind, 
as  well  as  the  mistress  of  his  heart,  she  had  acquired,  she 
knew  not  how,  strange  stores  of  thought,  and  intelligence, 
and  pure,  gentle  wisdom.  In  opening  to  her  confidence 
his  own  high  aims  and  projects,  he  himself  was  scarcely 
conscious  how  often  he  confided  but  to  consult  —  how 
often  and  how  insensibly  she  colored  his  reflections  and 
shaped  his  designs.  Whatever  was  highest  and  purest, 
that,  Edith  ever,  as  by  instinct,  beheld  as  the  wisest.  She 
grew  to  him  like  a  second  conscience,  diviner  than  his 
own.  Each,  therefore,  reflected  virtue  on  the  other,  as 
planet  illumines  planet. 

All  these  years  of  probation,  then,  which  might  _ave 
soured  a  love  less  holy,  changed  into  weariness  a  love 
less  intense,  had  only  served  to  wed  them  more  intimately 
soul  to  soul ;  and  in  that  spotless  union  what  happiness 
there  was  !  what  rapture  in  word  and  glance,  and  the 
slight,  restrained,  caress  of  innocence,  beyond  all  the 
transports  lo  re  only  human  can  bestow  ! 


HAROLD.  301 


CHAPTER  IT. 

It  was  a  bright  still  summer  noon,  when  Harold  sate 
with  Edith  amidst  the  columns  of  the  Druid  temple,  and 
in  the  shade  which  those  vast  and  mournful  relics  of  a 
faith  departed  cast  along  the  sward.  .  And  there,  con- 
versing over  the  past,  and  planning  the  future,  they  had 
sate  long,  when  Hilda  approached  from  the  house,  and 
entering  the  circle,  leant  her  arm  upon  the  altar  of  the 
war-god,  and  gazing  on  Harold  with  a  calm  triumph  in 
her  aspect,  said, — 

"  Did  I  not  smile,  son  of  Godwin,  when,  with  thy  short- 
sighted wisdom,  thou  didst  think  to  guard  thy  land  and 
secure  thy  love,  by  urging  the  monk-king  to  send  over 
the  seas  for  the  Atheling?  Did  I  not  tell  thee,  'Thou 
dost  right,  for  in  obeying  thy  judgment  thou  art  but  the 
instrument  of  fate ;  and  the  coming  of  the  Atheling  shall 
speed  thee  nearer  to  the  ends  of  thy  life,  but  not  from 
the  Atheling  shalt  thou  take  the  crown  of  thy  love,  and 
not  by  the  Atheling  shall  the  throne  of  Athelstan  be 
filled?'" 

"Alas,"  said  Harold,  rising  in  agitation,  "let  me  not 
hear  of  mischance  to  that  noble  prince.  He  seemed  sick 
and  feeble  when  I  parted  from  him  ;  but  joy  is  a  great 
restorer,  and  the  air  of  the  native  land  gives  quick  health 
to  the  exile." 

I.— 26 


302  HAROLD. 

"  Hark ! "  said  Hilda,  a  you  hear  the  passing  bell  for 
the  soul  of  the  son  of  Ironsides  ! " 

The  mournful  knell,  as  she  spoke,  came  dull  from  the 
roofs  of  the  city  afar,  borne  to  their  ears  by  the  exceed- 
ing  stillness  of  the  atmosphere.  Edith  crossed  herself, 
and  murmured  a  prayer  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
age  ;  then  raising  her  eyes  to  Harold,  she  murmured,  as 
she  clasped  her  hands, — 

"Be  not  saddened,  Harold;  hope  still. " 

"  Hope  ! "  repeated  Hilda,  rising  proudly  from  her  re- 
cumbent position,  "  Hope  !  in  that  knell  from  St.  Paul's, 
dull  indeed  is  thine  ear,  0  Harold,  if  thou  hearest  not 
the  joy-bells  that  inaugurate  a  future  king  ! " 

The  earl  started  ;  his  eyes  shot  fire  ;  his  breast  heaved. 

"  Leave  us,  Edith,"  said  Hilda,  in  a  low  voice  ;  and 
after  watching  her  grandchild's  slow  reluctant  steps  de- 
scend the  knoll,  she  turned  to  Harold,  and  leading  him 
towards  the  grave-stone  of  the  Saxon  chief,  said, — 

"  Rememberest  thou  the  spectre  that  rose  from  this 
mound  ? — rememberest  thou  the  dream  that  followed  it  ?  " 

"  The  spectre,  or  deceit  of  mine  eye,  I  remember  well," 
answered  the  earl ;  "  the  dream,  not ; — or  only  in  confused 
and  jarring  fragments." 

"I  told  thee  then,  that  I  could  not  unriddle  the  dream 
by  the  light  of  the  momeni ;  and  that  the  dead  who  slept 
below  never  appeared  to  men,  save  for  some  portent  of 
doom  to  the  house  of  Cerdic.  The  portent  is  fulfilled  •, 
the  Heir  of  Cerdic  is  no  more.     To  whom  appeared  the 


HAROLD.  303 

great  Scin-leeca,  but  to  him  who  shall  lead  a  new  race 
of  kings  to  the  Saxon  throne  ! " 

Harold  breathed  hard,  and  the  color  mounted  bright 
and  glowing  to  his  cheek  and  brow. 

"  I  cannot  gainsay  thee,  Yala.  Unless,  despite  all 
conjecture,  Edward  should  be  spared  to  earth  till  the 
Atheling's  infant  son  acquires  the  age  when  bearded  men 
will  acknowledge  a  chief,*  I  look  round  in  England  for 
the  coming  king,  and  all  England  reflects  but  mine  own 
image." 

His  head  rose  erect  as  he  spoke,  and  already  the  brow 
seemed  august,  as  if  circled  by  the  diadem  of  the  Basileus. 

"And  if  it  be  so,"  he  added,  "  I  accept  that  solemn 
trust,  and  England  shall  grow  greater  in  my  greatness." 

"The  flame  breaks  at  last  from  the  smouldering  fuel,'1 
cried  the  Yala,  "  and  the  hour  I  so  long  foretold  to  thee 
hath  come  ! " 

*  It  is  impossible  to  form  any  just  view  of  the  state  of  parties, 
and  the  position  of  Harold  in  the  latter  portions  of  this  work,  un- 
less the  reader  will  bear  constantly  in  mind  the  fact  that,  from  the 
earliest  period,  minors  were  set  aside  as  a  matter  of  course,  by  the 
Saxon  customs.  Henry  observes  that,  in  the  whole  history  of  the 
Heptarchy,  there  is  but  one  example  of  a  minority,  and  that  a  short 
and  unfortunate  one;  so,  in  the  later  times,  the  great  Alfred  takes 
the  throne,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  infant  son  of  his  elder  brother. 
Only  under  very  peculiar  circumstances,  backed,  as  in  the  case  of 
Edmund  Ironsides,  by  precocious  talents  and  manhood  on  the  part 
of  the  minor,  were  there  exceptions  to  the  general  haws  of  succes- 
sion. The  same  rule  obtained  with  the  earldoms;  the  fame,  power, 
and  popularity  of  Siward  could  not  transmit  his  Northumbrian 
earldom  to  his  infant  son  Waltheof,  so  gloomily  renowned  in  a 
subsequent  reign, 


304  HAROLD. 

Harold  answered  not,  for  high  and  kindling  emotions 
deafened  him  to  all  but  the  voice  of  a  grand  ambition, 
and  the  awakening  joy  of  a  noble  heart. 

"And  then  —  and  then,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  shall  need 
no  mediator  between  nature  and  monkcraft ;  —  then,  0 
Edith,  the  life  thou  hast  saved  will  indeed  be  thine  ! M 
He  paused,  and  it  was  a  sign  of  the  change  that  an 
ambition  long  repressed,  but  now  rushing  into  the  vent 
legitimately  open  to  it,  had  already  begun  to  work  in  the 
character  hitherto  so  self-reliant,  when  he  said  in  a  low 
voice,  ''But  that  dream  which  hath  so  long  lain  locked, 
not  lost,  in  my  mind  ;  that  dream  of  which  I  recall  only 
vague  remembrances  of  danger  yet  defiance,  trouble  yet 
triumph,  —  canst  thou  unriddle  it,  0  Yala,  into  auguries 
of  success  ?  w 

"Harold,"  answered  Hilda,  "thou  didst  hear  at  the 
close  of  thy  dream,  the  music  of  the  hymns  that  are 
chaunted  at  the  crowning  of  a  king,  —  and  a  crowned 
king  shalt  thou  be ;  yet  fearful  foes  shall  assail  thee  — 
foreshown  in  the  shapes  of  the  lion  and  raven,  that  came 
in  menace  over  the  blood-red  sea.  The  two  stars  in  the 
heaven  betoken  that  the  day  of  thy  birth  was  also  the 
birth-day  of  a  foe,  whose  star  is  fatal  to  thine ;  and  they 
warn  thee  against  a  battle-field,  fought  on  the  day  when 
those  stars  shall  meet.  Farther  than  this  the  mystery 
of  thy  dream  escapes  from  my  lore; — wouldstthou  learn 
thyself,  from  the  phantom  that  sent  the  dream  ;  — stand 
by  my  side  at  the  grave  of  the  Saxon  hero,  and  I  will 
summon  the  Scin-laeca  to  counsel  the  living.     For  what 


HAROLD.  305 

to  the  Yala  the  dead  may  deny,  the  soul  of  the  brave  on 
the  brave  may  bestow  ! " 

Harold  listened  with  a  serious  and  musing  attention, 
which  his  pride  or  his  reason  had  never  before  accorded 
to  the  warnings  of  Hilda.  But  his  sense  was  not  yet 
fascinated  by  the  voice  of  the  charmer,  and  he  answered 
with  his  wonted  smile,  so  sweet  yet  so  haughty,  — 

"  A  hand  outstretched  to  a  crown  should  be  armed  for 
the  foe;  and  the  eye  that  would  guard  the  living  should 
not  be  dimmed  by  the  vapors  that  encircle  the  dead." 


Mfk 


CHAPTER   V 


But  from  that  date  changes,  slight,  yet  noticeable  and 
important,  were  at  work  both  in  the  conduct  and  cha- 
racter of  the  great  earl. 

Hitherto  he  had  advanced  on  his  career  without  calcu- 
lation ;  and  nature,  not  policy,  had  achieved  his  power. 
But  henceforth  he  began  thoughtfully  to  cement  the 
foundations  of  his  house,  to  extend  the  area,  to  strengthen 
the  props.  Policy  now  mingled  with  the  justice  that 
had  made  him  esteemed,  and  the  generosity  that  had  won 
hinr.  love.  Before,  though  by  temper  conciliatory,  yet, 
through  honesty,  indifferent  to  the  enmities  he  provoked, 
in  his  adherence  to  what  his  conscience  approved,  he  now 
laid  himself  out  to  propitiate  all  ancient  feuds,  soothe  all 
26*  U 


306  HAROLD. 

jealousies,  and  convert  foes  into  friends.  He  opened 
constant  and  friendly  communication  with  his  uncle 
Sweyn,  King  of  Denmark  ;  he  availed  himself  sedulously 
of  all  the  influence  over  the  Anglo-Danes  which  his 
mother's  birth  made  so  facile.  He  strove  also,  and 
wisely,  to  conciliate  the  animosities  which  the  Church 
had  cherished  against  Godwin's  house  ;  he  concealed  his 
disdain  of  the  monks  and  monk-ridden  ;  he  showed  him- 
self the  Church's  patron  and  friend ;  he  endowed  largely 
the  convents,  and  especially  one  at  Waltham,  which  had 
fallen  into  decay,  though  favorably  known  for  the  piety 
of  its  brotherhood.  But  if  in  this  he  played  a  part  not 
natural  to  his  opinions,  Harold  could  not,  even  in  simula- 
tion, administer  to  evil.  The  monasteries  he  favored 
were  those  distinguished  for  purity  of  life,  for  benevolence 
to  the  poor,  for  bold  denunciation  of  the  excesses  of  the 
great.  He  had  not,  like  the  Norman,  the  grand  design 
of  creating  in  the  priesthood  a  college  of  learning,  a 
school  of  arts ;  such  notions  were  unfamiliar  in  homely 
unlettered  England.  And  Harold,  though  for  his  time 
and  his  land  no  mean  scholar,  would  have  recoiled  from 
favoring  a  learning  always  made  subservient  to  Rome  ; 
always  at  once  haughty  and  scheming,  and  aspiring  to 
complete  domination  over  both  the  souls  of  men  and  the 
thrones  of  kings.  But  his  aim  was,  out  of  the  elements 
he  found  in  the  natural  kindliness  existing  between  Saxon 
priest  and  Saxon  flock,  to  rear  a  modest,  virtuous,  homely 
clergy,  not  above  tender  sympathy  with  an  ignorant 
population.     He  selected  as  examples  for  his  monastery 


HAROLD.  307 

at  Walthara,  two  low-born  humble  brothers,  Osgood  and 
Ailred  ;  the  one  known  for  the  courage  with  which  he 
had  gone  through  the  land,  preaching  to  abbot  and  thegn 
the  emancipation  of  the  theowes,  as  the  most  meritorious 
act  the  safety  of  the  soul  could  impose  ;  the  other,  who, 
originally  a  clerk,  had,  according  to  the  common  custom 
of  the  Saxon  clergy,  contracted  the  bonds  of  marriage, 
and  with  some  eloquence  had  vindicated  that  custom 
against  the  canons  of  Rome,  and  refused  the  offer  of 
large  endowments  and  thegn's  rank  to  put  away  his  wife. 
But  on  the  death  of  that  spouse,  he  had  adopted  the 
cowl,  and  while  still  persisting  in  the  lawfulness  of  mar- 
riage to  the  unmonastic  clerks,  had  become  famous  for 
denouncing  the  open  concubinage  which  desecrated  the 
holy  office,  and  violated  the  solemn  vows,  of  many  a  proud 
prelate  and  abbot. 

To  these  two  men  (both  of  whom  refused  the  abbacy 
of  Waltham)  Harold  committed  the  charge  of  selecting 
the  new  brotherhood  established  there.  And  the  monks 
of  Waltham  were  honored  as  saints  throughout  the  neigh- 
boring district,  and  cited  as  examples  to  all  the  Church. 

But  though  in  themselves  the  new  politic  arts  of 
Harold  seemed  blameless  enough,  arts  they  were,  and  as 
such  they  corrupted  the  genuine  simplicity  of  his  earlier 
nature.  J5e  had  conceived  for  the  first  time  an  ambition 
apart  from  that  of  service  to  his  country.  It  was  no 
longer  only  to  serve  the  land,  it  was  to  serve  it  as  its 
ruler,  that  animated  his  heart  and  colored  his  thoughts. 
Expediencies  began  to  dim  to  his  conscience  the  health- 


308  HAROLD. 

ful  loveliness  of  Truth.  And  now,  too,  gradually,  that 
empire  which  Hilda  had  gained  over  his  brother  Sweyn, 
began  to  sway  this  man,  heretofore  so  strong  in  his 
sturdy  sense.  The  future  became  to  him  a  dazzling 
mystery,  into  which  his  conjectures  plunged  themselves 
more  and  more.  He  had  not  yet  stood  in  the  Runic 
circle  and  invoked  the  dead ;  but  the  spells  were  around 
his  heart,  and  in  his  own  soul  had  grown  up  the  familiar 
demou. 

Still  Edith  reigned  alone,  if  not  in  his  thoughts,  at 
least  in  his  affections  ;  and  perhaps  it  was  the  hope  of 
conquering  all  obstacles  to  his  marriage  that  mainly 
induced  him  to  propitiate  the  Church,  through  whose 
agency  the  object  he  sought  must  be  attained ;  and  still 
that  hope  gave  the  brightest  lustre  to  the  distant  crown. 
But  he  who  admits  Ambition  to  the  companionship  of 
Love,  admits  a  giant  that  outstrides  the  gentler  footsteps 
of  its  comrade. 

Harold's  brow  lost  its  benign  calm.  He  became 
thoughtful  and  abstracted.  He  consulted  Edith  less, 
Hilda  more.  Edith  seemed  to  him  now  not  wise  enough 
to  counsel.  The  smile  of  his  Fylgia,  like  the  light  of 
the  star  upon  a  stream,  lit  the  surface,  but  could  not 
pierce  to  the  deep. 

Meanwhile,  however,  the  policy  of  Harold  throve  and 
prospered.  He  had  already  arrived  at  that  height,  that 
the  least  effort  to  make  power  popular  redoubled  its 
extent.  Gradually  all  voices  swelled  the  chorus  in  his 
praise  ;  gradually  men  became  familiar  to  the  question, 


HAROLD.  309 

"If  Edward  dies  before  Edgar,  the  grandson  of  Iron- 
sides, is  of  age  to  succeed,  where  can  we  find  a  king  like 
Harold  ?  » 

In  the  midst  of  this  quiet  but  deepening  sunshine  of 
his  fate,  there  burst  a  storm,  which  seemed  destined 
either  to  darken  his  day  or  to  disperse  every  cloud  from 
the  horizon.  Algar,  the  only  possible  rival  to  his  power 
— the  only  opponent  no  arts  could  soften — Algar,  whose 
hereditary  name  endeared  him  to  the  Saxon  laity,  whose 
father's  most  powerful  legacy  was  the  love  of  the  Saxon 
Church,  whose  martial  and  turbulent  spirit  had  only  the 
more  elevated  him  in  the  esteem  of  the  warlike  Danes  in 
East  Anglia,  (the  earldom  in  which  he  had  succeeded 
Harold,)  by  his  father's  death,  lord  of  the  great  princi- 
pality of  Mercia  —  availed  himself  of  that  new  power  to 
break  out  again  into  rebellion.  Again  he  was  outlawed, 
again  he  leagued  with  the  fiery  Gryffyth.  All  Wales  was 
in  revolt ;  the  Marches  were  invaded  and  laid  waste. 
Eolfe,  the  feeble  Earl  of  Hereford,  died  at  this  critical 
juncture,  and  the  Normans  and  hirelings  under  him 
mutinied  against  other  leaders ;  a  fleet  of  vikings  from 
Norway  ravaged  the  western  coasts,  and  sailing  up  the 
Menai,  joined  the  ships  of  Gryffyth,  and  the  whole  empire 
seemed  menaced  with  dissolution,  when  Edward  issued 
his  Herrbann,  and  Harold  at  the  head  of  the  royal  armies 
marched  on  the  foe. 

Dread  and  dangerous  were  those  defiles  of  Wales ; 
amidst  them  had  been  foiled  or  slaughtered  all  the 
warriors  under  Rolf  the  Norman  ;  no  Saxon  armies  had 


310  HAROLD. 

won  laurels  in  the  Cymrian's  own  mountain  home  within 
the  memory  of  man  ;  nor  had  any  Saxon  ships  borne 
the  palm  from  the  terrible  vikings  of  Norway.  Fail, 
Harold,  and  farewell  the  crown  !  —  succeed,  and  thou 
hast  on  thy  side  the  ultimam  roMonem  regum  (the  last 
argument  of  kings),  the  heart  of  the  army  over  which 
thou  art  chief. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

It  was  one  day  in  the  height  of  summer  that  two 
horsemen  rode  slowly,  and  conversing  with  each  other  in 
friendly  wise,  notwithstanding  an  evident  difference  of 
rank  and  of  nation,  through  the  lovely  country  which 
formed  the  Marches  of  Wales.  The  younger  of  these 
men  was  unmistakably  a  Norman  ;  his  cap  only  partially 
covered  the  head,  which  was  shaven  from  the  crown  to 
the  nape  of  the  neck,*  while  in  front  the  hair,  closely 
cropped,  curled  short  and  thick  round  a  haughty  but 
intelligent  brow.  His  dress  fitted  close  to  his  shape,  and 
was  worn  without  mantle ;  his  leggings  were  curiously 
crossed  in  the  fashion  of  a  tartan,  and  on  his  heels  were 
spurs  of  gold.  He  was  wholly  unarmed ;  but  behind 
him  and  his  companion,  at  a  little  distance,  his  war 
horse,  completely  caparisoned,  was  led  by  a  single  squire, 
mean  ted  on  a  good  Norman  steed ;   while  six  Saxon 


*  Bayeux  tapestry. 


HARCLD.  311 

theowes,  tnemselves  on  foot,  conducted  three  sumpter- 
mules,  somewhat  heavily  laden,  not  only  with  the  armor 
of  the  Norman  knight,  but  panniers  containing  rich 
robes,  wines,  and  provender.  At  a  few  paces  farther 
behind,  marched  a  troop,  light-armed,  in  tough  hides, 
curiously  tanned,  with  axes  swung  over  their  shoulders, 
and  bows  in  their  hands. 

The  companion  of  the  knight  was  as  evidently  a  Saxon 
as  the  knight  was  unequivocally  a  Norman.  His  square, 
short  features,  contrasting  the  oval  visage  and  aquiline 
profile  of  his  close-shaven  comrade,  were  half  concealed 
beneath  a  bushy  beard  and  immense  moustache.  His 
tunic,  also,  was  of  hide,  and,  tightened  at  the  waist,  fell 
loose  to  his  knee  ;  while  a  kind  of  cloak,  fastened  to  the 
right  shoulder  by  a  large  round  button,  or  broach,  flowed 
behind  and  in  front,  but  left  both  arms  free.  His  cap 
differed  in  shape  from  the  Norman's,  being  round  and  full 
at  the  sides,  somewhat  in  shape  like  a  turban.  His  bare, 
brawny  throat  was  curiously  punctured  with  sundry  de- 
vices, and  a  verse  from  the  Psalms. 

His  countenance,  though  without  the  high  and  haughty 
brow,  and  the  acute,  observant  eye  of  his  comrade,  had  a 
pride  and  intelligence  of  its  own — a  pride  somewhat  sul- 
len, and  an  intelligence  somewhat  slow. 

"  My  good  friend,  Sexwolf,"  quoth  the  Norman  in  very 
tolerable  Saxon,  "  I  pray  you  not  so  to  misesteem  us. 
After  all,  we  Normans  are  of  your  own  race :  our  fathers 
spoke  the  same  language  as  yours." 

"That  may  be,"  said  the  Saxon,  bluntly,  "  and  so  did 


312  HAROLD 

the  Danes,  with  little  difference,  when  they  burned  our 
houses  and  cut  our  throats." 

"  Old  tales,  those,"  replied  the  knight,  "  and  I  thank 
thee  for  the  comparison  ;  for  the  Danes,  thou  seest,  are 
now  settled  amongst  ye,  peaceful  subjects  and  quiet  men, 
and  in  a  few  generations  it  will  be  hard  to  guess  who 
comes  from  Saxon,  who  from  Dane." 

"  We  waste  time,  talking  such  matters,"  returned  the 
Saxon,  feeling  himself  instinctively  no  match  in  argument 
for  his  lettered  companion  ;  and  seeing,  with  his  native 
strong  sense,  that  some  ulterior  object,  though  he  guessed 
not  what,  lay  hid  in  the  conciliatory  language  of  his  com- 
panion ;  "nor  do  I  believe,  Master  Mallet  or  Gravel  — 
forgive  me  if  I  miss  of  the  right  forms  to  address  you — 
that  Norman  will  ever  love  Saxon,  or  Saxon  Norman  ; 
so  let  us  cut  our  words  short.  There  stands  the  convent, 
at  which  you  would  like  to  rest  and  refresh  yourself." 

The  Saxon  pointed  to  a  low,  clumsy  building  of  tim- 
ber, forlorn  and  decayed,  close  by  a  rank  marsh,  over 
which  swarmed  gnats,  and  all  foul  animalcules. 

Mallet  de  Graville,  for  it  was  he,  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders, and  said,  with  an  air  of  pity  and  contempt, — 

"  I  would,  friend  Sexwolf,  that  thou  couldst  but  see  the 
houses  we  build  to  God  and  his  saints  in  our  Normandy; 
fabrics  of  stately  stone,  on  the  fairest  sites.  Our  Countess 
Matilda  hath  a  notable  taste  for  the  masonry ;  and  our 
workmen  are  the  brethren  of  Lombardy,  who  know  all 
the  mysteries  thereof." 

"I  pray  thee,  Dan-Norman,"  cried  the  Saxon,  "not  to 


HAROLD.  313 

put  such  ideas  into  the  soft  head  of  King  Edward.  We 
pay  enow  for  the  Church,  though  built  but  of  timber ; 
saints  help  us  indeed,  if  it  were  builded  of  stone  !" 

The  Norman  crossed  himself,  as  if  he  had  heard  some 
signal  impiety,  and  then  said, — 

"  Thou  lovest  not  Mother  Church,  worthy  Sexwolf  ?" 

"  I  was  brought  up,"  replied  the  sturdy  Saxon,  "  to 
work  and  sweat  hard,  and  I  love  not  the  lazy  who  de- 
vour my  substance,  and  say,  'the  saints  gave  it  them.' 
Knowest  thou  not,  Master  Mallet,  that  one-third  of  all 
the  lands  of  England  is  in  the  hands  of  the  priests  ?" 

"  Hem  ! "  said  the  acute  Norman,  who,  with  all  his  de- 
votion, could  stoop  to  wring  worldly  advantage  from  each 
admission  of  his  comrade ;  "  then  in  this  merrie  England 
of  thine,  thou  hast  still  thy  grievances  and  cause  of  com- 
plaint ?  " 

"  Yea,  indeed,  and  I  trow  it,"  quoth  the  Saxon,  even 
in  that  day  a  grumbler ;  "  but  I  take  it,  the  main  differ- 
ence between  thee  and  me  is,  that  I  can  say  what  mis 
likes  me  out  like  a  man  ;  and  it  would  fare  ill  with  thy 
limbs  or  thy  life  if  thou  wert  as  frank  in  the  grim  land 
of  thy  heretogh." 

"Now,  Notre  Dame  stop  thy  prating,"  said  the  Nor- 
man, in  high  disdain,  while  his  brow  frowned  and  his  eye 
sparkled.  "  Strong  judge  and  great  captain  as  is  Wil- 
liam the  Norman,  his  barons  and  knights  hold  their  heads 
high  in  his  presence,  and  not  a  grievance  weighs  on  the 
heart  that  we  give  not  out  with  the  lip." 

"So  have  I  heard,"  said  the  Saxon,  chuckling;  "I 

I.  —  21 


314  HAROLD. 

Lave  heard,  indeed,  that  ye  thegns,  or  great  men,  are 
free  enow,  and  plain-spoken.  But  what  of  the  commons 
— the  sixhaendmen,  and  the  ceorls,  master  Norman  ?  Dare 
they  speak  as  we  speak  of  king  and  of  law,  of  thegn  and 
of  captain  ?  " 

The  Norman  wisely  curbed  the  scornful  "No,  indeed, " 
that  rushed  to  his  lips,  and  said,  all  sweet  and  debon- 
nair, — 

"  Each  land  hath  its  customs,  dear  Sexwolf ;  and  if  the 
Norman  were  king  of  England,  he  would  take  the  laws 
as  he  finds  them,  and  the  ceorls  would  be  as  safe  with 
William  as  Edward." 

"  The  Norman,  king  of  England  ! M  cried  the  Saxon, 
reddening  to  the  tips  of  his  great  ears,  "What  dost  thou 
babble  of,  stranger?  The  Norman  !  —  How  could  that 
ever  be  ? " 

"Nay,  I  did  but  suggest  —  but  suppose  such  a  case," 
replied  the  knight,  still  smothering  his  wrath.  "And 
why  thinkest  thou  the  conceit  so  outrageous  ?  Thy  king 
is  childless  ;  William  is  his  next  of  kin,  and  dear,  to  him 
as  a  brother  ;  and  if  Edward  did  leave  him  the  throne — " 

"The  throne  is  for  no  man  to  leave,"  almost  roared 
the  Saxon.  "  Thinkest  thou  the  people  of  England  are 
like  cattle  and  sheep,  and  chatties  and  theowes,  to  be 
left  by  will,  as  man  fancies  ?  The  king's  wish  has  its 
weight,  no  doubt,  but  the  Witan  hath  its  yea  or  its  nay, 
and  the  Witan  and  Commons  are  seldom  at  issue  thereon. 
Thy  duke  king  of  England  !     Marry  !     Ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Brute  !  "  muttered  the  knight  to  himself;  then  adding 


HAROLD.  315 

aioud,  with  his  old  tone  of  irony  (now  much  habitually 
subdued  by  years  and  discretion),  "  Why  takest  thou  so 
the  part  of  the  ceorls  ?  thou  a  captain,  and  well-nigh  a 
thegn  !  " 

•'  I  was  born  a  ceorl,  and  my  father  before  me,"  re- 
turned Sexwolf,  "  and  I  feel  with  my  class  ;  though  my 
grandson  may  rank  with  the  thegns,  and,  for  aught  I 
know,  with  the  earls." 

The  Sire  de  Graville  involuntarily  drew  off  from  the 
Saxon's  side,  as  if  made  suddenly  aware  that  he  had 
grossly  demeaned  himself  in  such  unwitting  familiarity 
with  a  ceorl,  and  a  ceorl's  son  ;  and  he  said,  with  a  much 
more  careless  accent  and  lofty  port  than  before, — 

"  Good  man,  thou  wert  a  ceorl,  and  now  thou  leadest 
Earl  Harold's  men  to  the  war !  How  is  this  ?  I  do  not 
quite  comprehend  it." 

"  How  shouldst  thou,  poor  Norman,"  replied  the  Saxon 
compassionately.  "  The  tale  is  soon  told.  Know  that 
when  Harold  our  earl  was  banished,  and  his  lands  taken, 
we  his  ceorls  .helped  with  his  sixhaendman,  Clapa,  to 
purchase  his  land,  nigh  by  London,  and  the  house  wherein 
thou  didst  find  me,  of  a  stranger,  thy  countryman,  to 
whom  they  were  lawlessly  given.  And  we  tilled  the  land, 
we  tended  the  herds,  and  we  kept  the  house  till  the  earl 
came  back." 

"  Ye  had  moneys  then,  moneys  of  your  own,  ye  ceorls  !" 
said  the  Norman  avariciously. 

"  How  else  could  we  buy  our  freedom  ?  Every  ceorl 
hath  some  hours  to  himself  to  employ  to  his  profit,  and 


316  HAROLD. 

ran  lay  by  for  his  own  ends.  These  savings  we  gave  up 
for  our  earl,  and  when  the  earl  came  back,  he  gave  the 
sixhaendman  hydes  of  land  enow  to  make  him  a  thegn  ; 
and  he  gave  the  ceorls  who  had  holpen  Clapa,  their  free- 
dom and  broad  shares  of  his  boc-land,  and  most  of  them 
now  hold  their  own  ploughs  and  feed  their  own  herds. 
But  I  loved  the  earl  (having  no  wife)  better  than  swine 
and  glebe,  and  I  prayed  him  to  let  me  serve  him  in  arms. 
And  so  I  have  risen,  as  with  us  ceorls  can  rise." 

"I  am  answered,"  said  Mallet  de  Graville  thoughtfully 
and  still  somewhat  perplexed.  "  But  these  theowes  (they 
are  slaves)  never  rise.  It  cannot  matter  to  them  whether 
shaven  Norman  or  bearded  Saxon  sit  on  the  throne  ?  n 

"  Thou  art  right  there,"  answered  the  Saxon  ;  "  it  mat- 
ters as  little  to  them  as  it  doth  to  thy  thieves  and  felons, 
for  many  of  them  are  felons  and  thieves,  or  the  children 
of  such ;  and  most  of  those  who  are  not,  it  is  said,  are 
not  Saxons,  but  the  barbarous  folks  whom  the  Saxons 
subdued.  No,  wretched  things,  and  scarce  men,  they 
care  nought  for  the  land.  Howbeit,  even  they  are  not 
without  hope,  for  the  Church  takes  their  part ;  and  that, 
at  least,  I  for  one,  think  Church-worthy,"  added  the 
Saxon  with  a  softened  eye.  "And  every  abbot  is  bound 
to  set  free  three  theowes  on  his  lands,  and  few  who  own 
theowes  die  without  freeing  some  by  their  will ;  so  that 
the  sons  of  theowes  may  be  thegns,  and  thegns  some  of 
them  are  at  this  day." 

"  Marvels  ! "   cried  the  Norman.     "  But   surely  they 


HAROLD.  31? 

bear  a  stain  and  stigma,  and  their  fellow-thegns  flout 
them  " 

"Not  a  whit  —  why  so?  land  is  land,  money  money. 
Little,  I  trow,  care  we  what  a  man's  father  may  have 
been,  if  the  man  himself  hath  his  ten  hydes  or  more  of 
good  boc-land." 

"Ye  value  land  and  the  moneys,"  said  the  Norman, 
"so  do  we,  but  we  value  more  name  and  birth." 

"  Ye  are  still  in  your  leading-strings,  Norman,"  replied 
the  Saxon,  waxing  good-humored  in  his  contempt. .  "  We 
have  an  old  saying  and  a  wise  one,  'AH  come  from  Adam 
except  Tib  the  ploughman  ;  but  when  Tib  grows  rich,  all 
call  him  'dear  brother.'" 

**  With  such  pestilent  notions,"  quoth  the  Sire  de  Gra- 
ville,  no  longer  keeping  temper,  "I  do  not  wonder  that 
our  fathers  of  Norway  and  Daneland  beat  ye  so  easily. 
The  love  for  things  ancient — creed,  lineage,  and  name,  is 
better  steel  against  the  stranger,  than  your  smiths  ever 
welded." 

Therewith,  and  not  waiting  for  SexwolPs  reply,  he 
clapped  spurs  to  his  palfrey,  and  soon  entered  the  court- 
yard of  the  convent. 

A  monk  of  the  order  of  St.  Benedict,  then  most  in 
favor,*  ushered  the  noble  visitor  into  the  cell  of  the 
abbot ;  who,  after  gazing  at  him  a  moment  in  wonder 
and  delight,  clasped  him  to  his  breast  and  kissed  him 
heartily  on  brow  and  cheek. 

*  Indeed,  apparently  the  only  monastic  order  in  England. 

27* 


318  HAROLD. 

"Ah,  Guillaume,"  he  exclaimed  in  the  Norman  tongue, 
"  this  is  indeed  a  grace  for  which  to  sing  Jubilate.  Thou 
canst  not  guess  how  welcome  is  the  face  of  a  countryman 
in  this  horrible  land  of  ill-cooking  and  exile." 

"  Talking  of  grace,  my  dear  father,  and  food,"  said  De 
Graville,  loosening  the  cincture  of  the  tight  vest  which 
gave  him  the  shape  of  a  wasp  —  for  even  at  that  early 
period,  small  waists  were  in  vogue  with  the  warlike  fops 
of  the  French  continent  —  "  talking  of  grace,  the  sooner 
thou  say'st  it  over  some  friendly  refection,  the  more  will 
the  Latin  sound  unctuous  and  musical.  I  have  journeyed 
since  daybreak,  and  am  now  hungered  and  faint." 

"Alack,  alack!"  cried  the  abbot,  plaintively,  "thou 
knowest  little,  my  son,  what  hardships  we  endure  in  these 
parts,  how  larded  our  larders,  and  how  nefarious  our  fare. 
The  flesh  of  swine  salted — " 

"The  flesh  of  Beelzebub,"  cried  Mallet  de  Graville 
aghast.  "  But  comfort  thee,  I  have  stores  on  my  sump- 
ter-  mules — poulardes  and  fishes,  and  other  not  despicable 
comestibles,  and  a  few  flasks  of  wine,  not  pressed,  laud 
the  saints  !  from  the  vines  of  this  country :  wherefore, 
wilt  thou  see  to  it,  and  instruct  thy  cooks  how  to  season 
the  cheer  ?  " 

"  No  cooks  have  I  to  trust  to,"  replied  the  abbot ;  "  of 
cooking  know  they  here  as  much  as  of  Latin  ;  natheless, 
I  will  go  and  do  my  best  with  the  stew-pans.  Mean- 
while, thou  wilt  at  least  have  rest  and  the  bath.  For  the 
Saxons,  even  in  their  convents,  are  a  clean  race,  and 
learned  the  bath  from  the  Dane." 


HAROLD.  319 

"That  I  have  noted,"  said  the  knight,  "for  even  a 
the  smallest  house  at  which  I  have  lodged  in  my  way 
from  London,  the  host  hath  courteously  offered  me  the 
bath,  and  the  hostess  linen  curious  and  fragrant ;  and  to 
say  truth,  the  poor  people  are  hospitable  and  kind,  de- 
spite their  uncouth  hate  of  the  foreigner;  nor  is  their 
meat  to  be  despised,  plentiful  and  succulent ;  but  pardex, 
as  thou  sayest,  little  helped  by  the  art  of  dressing. 
Wherefore,  my  father,  I  will  while  the  time  till  the  pou- 
lardes  be  roasted,  and  the  fish  broiled  or  stewed,  by  the 
ablutions  thou  profferest  me.  I  shall  tarry  with  thee  some 
hours,  for  I  have  much  to  learn." 

The  abbot  then  led  the  Sire  de  Graville  by  the  hand  to 
the  cell  of  honor  and  guestship,  and  having  seen  that  the 
bath  prepared  was  of  warmth  sufficient,  for  both  Norman 
and  Saxon  (hardy  men  as  they  seem  to  us  from  afar)  so 
shuddered  at  the  touch  of  cold  water,  that  a  bath  of 
natural  temperature  (as  well  as  a  hard  bed)  was  some- 
times imposed  as  a  penance,  — the  good  father  went  his 
way,  to  examine  the  sumpter-mules,  and  admonish  the 
much-suffering  and  bewildered  lay-brother  who  officiated 
as  cook, — and  who,  speaking  neither  Norman  nor  Latin, 
scarce  made  out  one  word  in  ten  of  his  superior's  elaborate 
exhortations. 

Mallet's  squire,  with  a  change  of  raiment,  and  goodly 
coffers  of  soaps,  unguents,  and  odors,  took  his  way  to  the 
knight,  for  a  Norman  of  birth  was  accustomed  to  much 
personal  attendance,  and  had  all  respect  for  the  body : 
and  it  was  nearly  an  hour  before,  in  a  long  gown  of  fur, 


320  HAROLD. 

reshaven,  dainty,  and  decked,  the  Sire  de  Graville  bowed, 
and  sighed,  and  prayed  before  the  refection  set  out  in  the 
abbot's  cell. 

The  two  Normans,  despite  the  sharp  appetite  of  the 
layman,  ate  with  great  gravity  and  decorum,  drawing 
forth  the  morsels  served  to  them  on  spits  with  silent 
examination  ;  seldom  more  than  tasting,  with  looks  of 
patient  dissatisfaction,  each  of  the  comestibles  ;  sipping 
rather  than  drinking,  nibbling  rather  than  devouring, 
washing  their  fingers  in  rose-water  with  nice  care  at  the 
close,  and  waving  them  afterwards  gracefully  in  the  air, 
to  allow  the  moisture  somewhat  to  exhale  before  they 
wiped  off  the  lingering  dews  with  their  napkins.  Then 
they  exchanged  looks  and  sighed  in  concert,  as  if  recall- 
ing the  polished  manners  of  Normandy,  still  retained  in 
that  desolate  exile.  And  their  temperate  meal  thus  con- 
cluded, dishes,  wines,  and  attendants  vanished,  and  their 
talk  commenced. 

"  How  earnest  thou  in  England  ? w  asked  the  abbot 
abruptly. 

"  Sauf  your  reverence,"  answered  De  Graville,  "not 
wholly  for  reasons  different  from  those  that  bring  thee 
hither.  When,  after  the  death  of  that  truculent  and 
orgulous  Godwin,  King  Edward  entreated  Harold  to  let 
him  have  back  some  of  his  dear  Norman  favorites,  thou, 
then  little  pleased  with  the  plain  fare  and  sharp  discipline 
of  the  convent  of  Bee,  didst  pray  Bishop  William  of 
London  to  accompany  such  train  as  Harold,  moved  by 
his  poor  king's  supplication,  was  pleased  to  permit.    The 


HAROLD.  321 

bishop  consented,  and  thou  wert  enabled  to  change 
monk's  cowl  for  abbot's  mitre.  In  a  word,  ambition 
brought  thee  to  England,  and  ambition  brings  me  hither. " 

"  Hem  !  and  how  ?  Mayst  thou  thrive  better  than  I 
in  this  swine-sty  ! " 

"You  remember,"  renewed  De  Graville,  "that  Lan- 
franc,  the  Lombard,  was  pleased  to  take  interest  in  my 
fortunes,  then  not  the  most  flourishing,  and  after  his  re- 
turn from  Rome,  with  the  pope's  dispensation  for  Count 
William's  marriage  with  his  cousin,  he  became  William's 
most  trusted  adviser.  Both  William  and  Lanfranc  were 
desirous  to  set  an  example  of  learning  to  our  Latinless 
nobles,  and  therefore  my  scholarship  found  grace  in  their 
eyes.  In  brief — since  then  I  have  prospered  and  thriven. 
I  have  fair  lands  by  the  Seine,  free  from  clutch  of  mer- 
chant and  Jew.  I  have  founded  a  convent,  and  slain 
some  hundreds  of  Breton  marauders.  Need  I  say  that  I 
am  in  high  favor  ?  Now  it  so  chanced  that  a  cousin  of 
mine,  Hugo  de  Magnaville,  a  brave  lance  and  franc-rider, 
chanced  to  murder  his  brother  in  a  little  domestic  affray, 
and,  being  of  conscience  tender  and  nice,  the  deed  preyed 
on  him,  and  he  gave  his  lands  to  Odo  of  Bayeux,  and  set 
off  to  Jerusalem.  There,  having  prayed  at  the  Tomb 
(the  knight  crossed  himself),  he  felt  at  once  miraculously 
cheered  and  relieved ;  but,  journeying  back,  mishaps 
befell  him.  He  was  made  slave  by  some  infidel,  to  one 
of  whose  wives  he  sought  to  be  gallant,  par  amours,  and 
only  escaped  at  last  by  setting  fire  to  paynim  and  prison. 
Now,  by  the  aid  of  the  Yirgin,  he  has  got  back  to  Rouen, 
27*  V 


V 


322  HAROLD. 

and  holds  his  own  land  again  in  fief  from  proud  Odo,  as 
a  knight  of  the  bishop's.  It  so  happened  that,  passing 
homeward  through  Lycia,  before  these  misfortunes  befell 
him,  he  made  friends  with  a  fellow-pilgrim  who  had  just 
returned,  like  himself,  from  the  Sepulchre,  but  not  light- 
ened, like  him,  of  the  load  of  his  crime.  This  poor  palm- 
er lay  broken-hearted  and  dying  in  the  hut  of  an  eremite, 
where  my  cousin  took  shelter;  and,  learning  that  Hugo 
was  on  his  way  to  Normandy,  he  made  himself  known  as 
Sweyn,  the  once  fair  and  proud  Earl  of  England,  eldest 
son  to  old  Godwin,  and  father  to  Haco,  whom  our  count 
still  holds  as  a  hostage.  He  besought  Hugo  to  intercede 
with  the  count  for  Haco's  speedy  release  and  return,  if 
King  Edward  assented  thereto  ;  and  charged  my  cousin, 
moreover,  with  a  letter  to  Harold,  his  brother,  which 
Hugo  undertook  to  send  over.  By  good  luck,  it  so 
chanced  that,  through  all  his  sore  trials,  cousin  Hugo 
kept  safe  round  his  neck  a  leaden  effigy  of  the  Virgin. 
The  infidels  disdained  to  rob  him  of  lead,  little  dreaming 
the  worth  which  the  sanctity  gave  to  the  metal.  To  the 
back  of  the  image  Hugo  fastened  the  letter,  and  so, 
though  somewhat  tattered  and  damaged,  he  had  it  still 
with  him  on  arriving  in  Rouen. 

"  Knowing  then,  my  grace  with  the  count,  and  not. 
despite  absolution  and  pilgrimage,  much  wishing  to  trust 
himself  in  the  presence  of  William,  who  thinks  gravely 
of  fratricide,  he  prayed  me  to  deliver  the  message,  and 
ask  leave  to  send  to  England  the  letter." 

"It  is  a  long  tale,"  quoth  the  abbot. 


HAROLD.  323 

"Patience,  my  father  !  I  am  nearly  at  the  end.  No- 
thing more  in  season  could  chance  for  my  fortunes.  Know 
that  William:  has  been  long  moody  and  anxious  as  to 
matters  in  England.  The  secret  accounts  he  receives 
from  the  Bishop  of  London  make  him  see  that  Edward's 
heart  is  much  alienated  from  him,  especially  since  the 
count  has  had  daughters  and  sons ;  for,  as  thou  knowrest, 
William  and  Edward  both  took  vows  of  chastity  in 
youth,*  and  William  got  absolved  from  his,  while  Edward 
hath  kept  firm  to  the  plight.  Not  long  ere  my  cousin 
came  back,  William  had  heard  that  Edward  had  ac- 
knowledged his  kinsman  as  natural  heir  to  his  throne. 
Grieved  and  troubled,  at  this,  William  had  said  in  my 
hearing,  'Would  that  amidst  yon  statues  of  steel,  there 
were  some  cool  head  and  wrise  tongue  I  could  trust  with 
my  interests  in  England  I  and  would  that  I  could  devise 
fitting  plea  and  excuse  for  an  envoy  to  Harold  the  Earl !' 
Much  had  I  mused  over  these  words,  and  a  light-hearted 
man  was  Mallet  de  Graville  when,  with  Sweyn's  letter  in 
hand,  he  went  to  Lanfranc  the  Abbot  and  said,  '  Patron 
and  father  !  thou  knowest  that  I,  almost  alone  of  the  Nor- 
man knights,  have  studied  the  Saxon  language.  And  if 
the  duke  wants  messenger  and  plea,  here  stands  the  mes- 
senger, and  in  this  hand  is  the  plea.'  Then  I  told  my 
tale.  Lanfranc  went  at  once  to  Duke  William.  Bv  this 
time,  news  of  the  Atheling's  death  had  arrived,  and  things 
looked  more  bright  to  my  liege.  Duke  William  was 
pleased  to  summon  me  straightway,  and  give  me  his  in- 

*  See  Note  to  Robert  of  Gloucester,  vol.  ii.  p.  372. 

V 


324  HAROLD. 

struetions.  So  over  the  sea  I  came  alone,  save  a  single 
squire,  reached  London,  learned  the  king  and  his  court 
were  at  Winchester  (but  with  them  I  had  little  to  do), 
and  that  Harold  the  Earl  was  at  the  head  of  his  forces 
in  Wales  against  GryfFyth  the  Lion  King.  The  earl  had 
sent  in  haste  for  a  picked  and  chosen  band  of  his  own  re- 
tainers, on  his  demesnes  near  the  city.  These  I  joined, 
and  learning  thy  name  at  the  monastery  at  Gloucester,  I 
stopped  here  to  tell  thee  my  news  and  hear  thine." 

"  Dear  brother,"  said  the  abbot,  looking  enviously  on 
the  knight,  "  would  that,  like  thee,  instead  of  entering 
the  Church,  I  had  taken  up  arms  !  Alike  once  was  our 
lot,  well-born  and  penniless.  Ah  me  ! — Thou  art  now  as 
the  swan  on  the  river,  and  I  as  the  shell  on  the  rock." 

"But,"  quoth  the  knight,  "  though  the  canons,  it  i8 
true,  forbid  monks  to  knock  people  on  the  head,  except 
m  self-preservation,  thou  knowest  well  that,  even  in 
.Normandy  (which,  I  take  it,  is  the  sacred  college  of  all 
priestly  lore,  on  this  side  the  Alps),  those  canons  are 
deemed  too  rigorous  for  practice  ;  and,  at  all  events,  it  is 
not  forbidden  thee  to  look  on  the  pastime  with  sword  or 
mace  by  thy  side  in  case  of  need.  Wherefore,  remember- 
ing thee  in  times  past,  I  little  counted  on  finding  thee — 
like  a  slug  in  thy  cell  !  No  ;  but  with  mail  on  thy  back, 
the  canons  clean  forgotten,  and  helping  stout  Harold  to 
sliver  and  brain  these  turbulent  Welchmen." 

"Ah  me  !  ah  me  !  No  such  good  fortune  ! "  sighed 
the  tall  abbot.  "  Little,  despite  thy  former  sojourn  in 
London,  and  thy  lore  of  their  tongue,  knowest  thou  of 


HAROLD.  325 

these  unmannerly  Saxons.  Rarely  indeed  do  abbot  and 
prelate  ride  to  the  battle  ;  *  and  were  it  not  for  a  huge 
Danish  monk,  who  took  refuge  here  to  escape  mutilation 
for  robbery,  and  who  mistakes  the  Virgin  for  a  Yalkyr, 
and  St.  Peter  for  Thor, — were  it  not,  I  say,  that  we  now 
and  then  have  a  bout  at  sword-play  together,  my  arm 
would  be  quite  out  of  practice." 

"  Cheer  thee,  old  friend, "  said  the  knight,  pityingly  ; 
"better  times  may  come  yet.    Meanwhile,  now  to  affairs 
For  all  I  hear  strengthens  all  William  has  heard,  that 
Harold  the  Earl  is  the  first  man  in  England.     Is  it  not 
so?" 

"Truly,  and  without  dispute." 

"Is  he  married  or  celibate  ?  For  that  is  a  question 
which  even  his  own  men  seem  to  answer  equivocally." 

"  Why,  all  the  wandering  minstrels  have  songs,  I  am 
told  by  those  who  comprehend  this  poor  barbarous 
tongue,  of  the  beauty  of  Editha  pulchra,  to  whom  it  is 
said  the  earl  is  betrothed,  or  it  may  be  worse.  But  he  is 
certainly  not  married,  for  the  dame  is  akin  to  him  within 
the  degrees  of  the  Church." 

"  Hem,  not  married  !  that  is  well ;  and  this  Algar,  or 
Elgar,  he  is  not  now  with  the  Welch,  I  hear  ? " 

*  The  Saxon  priests  were  strictly  forbidden  to  bear  arms.  *~ 
Spklm.  Condi,  p.  238. 

It  is  mentioned  in  the  English  Chronicles,  as  a  very  extraordi- 
nary circumstance,  that  a  bishop  of  Hereford,  who  had  been  Ha- 
rold's chaplain,  did  actually  take  sword  and  shield  against  the 
Welch.  Unluckily,  this  valiant  prelate  was  slain  so  soon,  that  it 
was  no  encouraging  example. 

L— 28 


326  HAROLD. 

"  No  ;  sore  ill  at  Chester  with  wounds  and  much 
chafing,  for  he  hath  sense  to  see  that  his  cause  is  lost. 
The  Norwegian  fleet  have  been  scattered  over  the  seas 
by  the  earl's  ships,  like  birds  in  a  storm.  The  rebel 
Saxons  who  joined  Gryffyth  under  Algar  have  been  so 
beaten,  that  those  who  survive  have  deserted  their  chief, 
and  Gryffyth  himself  is  penned  up  in  his  last  defiles,  and 
cannot  much  longer  resist  the  stout  foe,  who,  by  valor- 
ous St.  Michael,  is  truly  a  great  captain.  As  soon  as 
Gryffyth  is  subdued,  Algar  will  be  crushed  in  his  retreat, 
like  a  bloated  spider  in  his  web  ;  and  then  England  will 
have  rest,  unless  our  liege,  as  thou  hintest,  set  her  to 
work  again." 

The  Norman  knight  mused  a  few  moments,  before  he 
said, — 

11 1  understand,  then,  that  there  is  no  man  in  the  land 
who  is  peer  to  Harold:  —  not,  I  suppose,  Tostig  his 
brother  ?  " 

"Not  Tostig,  surely,  whom  nought  but  Harold's  re- 
pute keeps  a  day  in  his  earldom.  But  of  late — for  he  is 
brave  and  skilful  in  war — he  hath  done  much  to  command 
the  respect,  though  he  cannot  win  back  the  love,  of  his 
fierce  Northumbrians,  for  he  hath  holpen  the  earl  gal- 
lantly in  this  invasion  of  Wales,  both  by  sea  and  by  land. 
But  Tostig  shines  only  from  his  brother's  light ;  and  if 
Gurth  were  more  ambitious,  Gurth  alone  could  be  Ha- 
rold's rival." 

The  Norman,  much  satisfied  with  the  information  thus 
gleaned  from  the  abbot,  who,  despite  his  ignorance  of 


HAROLD.  327 

the  Saxon  tongue,  was,  like  all  his  countrymen,  acute 
and  curious,  now  rose  to  depart.  The  abbot,  detaining 
him  a  few  moments,  and  looking  at  him  wistfully,  said  in 
a  low  voice, — 

"  What  thinkest  thou  are  Count  William's  chances  of 
England?" 

"  Good,  if  he  have  recourse  to  stratagem  ;  sure,  if  he 
can  win  Harold." 

"  Yet,  take  my  word,  the  English  love  not  the  Nor- 
mans, and  will  fight  stiffly." 

f*  That  I  believe.  But  if  fighting  must  be,  I  see  that 
it  will  be  the  fight  of  a  single  battle,  for  there  is  neither 
fortress  nor  mountain  to  admit  of  long  warfare.  And 
look  you,  my  friend,  everything  here  is  worn  out!  The 
royal  line  is  extinct  with  Edward,  save  in  a  child,  whom 
I  hear  no  man  name  as  a  successor ;  the  old  nobility  are 
gone  ;  there  is  no  reverence  for  old  names  ;  the  Church 
is  as  decrepit  in  the  spirit  as  thy  lath  monastery  is  de- 
cayed in  its  timbers ;  the  martial  spirit  of  the  Saxon  is 
half  rotted  away  in  the  subjugation  to  a  clergy,  not 
brave  and  learned,  but  timid  and  ignorant ;  the  desire 
for  money  eats  up  all  manhood  ;  the  people  have  been 
accustomed  to  foreign  monarchs  under  the  Danes ;  and 
William,  once  victor,  would  have  but  to  promise  to  re- 
tain the  old  laws  and  liberties,  to  establish  himself  as 
firmly  as  Canute.  The  Anglo-Danes  might  trouble  him 
somewhat,  but  rebellion  would  become  a  weapon  in  the 
hands  of  a  schemer  like  William.  He  would  bristle  all 
t,ne  land  with  castles  and  forts,  and  hold  it  as  a  camp. 


328  HAROLD. 

My  poor  friend,  we  shall  live  yet  to  exchange  gratula 
tions, — thou  prelate  of  some  fair  English  see,  and  I  baron 
of  broad  English  lands." 

11 1  think  thou  art  right,"  said  the  tall  abbot,  cheerily, 
"  and  marry,  when  the  day  comes,  I  will  at  least  fight 
for  the  duke.  Yea  —  thou  art  right,"  he  continued, 
looking  round  the  dilapidated  walls  of  the  cell ;  "  all 
here  is  worn  out,  and  nought  can  restore  the  realm,  save 
the  Norman  William,  or " 

"Or  who?" 

"  Or  the  Saxon  Harold.  But  thou  goest  to  see  him  — 
judge  for  thyself." 

"  I  will  do  so,  and  needfully,"  said  the  Sire  de  Graville ; 
and  embracing  his  friend,  he  renewed  his  journey. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Messire  Mallet  de  Graville  possessed  in  perfection 
that  cunning  astuteness  which  characterized  the  Nor- 
mans, as  it  did  all  the  old  pirate  races  of  the  Baltic  ; 
and  if,  O  reader,  thou,  peradventure,  shouldst  ever  in 
this  remote  day  have  dealings  with  the  tall  men  of  Ebor 
or  Yorkshire,  there  wilt  thou  yet  find  the  old  Dane- 
father's  wit  —  it  may  be  to  thy  cost  —  more  especially  if 
treating  for  those  animals  which  the  ancestors  ate,  and 
which  the  sons,  without  eating,  still  manage  to  fatten  on. 


HAROLD.  329 

But  though  the  crafty  knight  did  his  best,  during  his 
progress  from  London  into  Wales,  to  extract  from  Sex- 
wolf  all  such  particulars  respecting  Harold  and  his 
brethren  as  he  had  reasons  for  wishing  to  learn,  he  found 
the  stubborn  sagacity  or  caution  of  the  Saxon  more  than 
a  match  for  him.  Sexwolf  had  a  dog's  instinct  in  all 
that  related  to  his  master ;  and  he  felt,  though  he  scarce 
knew  why,  that  the  Norman  cloaked  some  design  upon 
Harold  in  all  the  cross-questionings  so  carelessly  ven- 
tured. And  his  stiff  silence,  or  bluff  replies,  when  Harold 
was  mentioned,  contrasted  much  the  unreserve  of  his  talk 
when  it  turned  upon  the  general  topics  of  the  day,  or  the 
peculiarities  of  Saxon  manners. 

By  degrees,  therefore,  the  knight,  chafed  and  foiled, 
drew  into  himself;  and  seeing  no  farther  use  could  be 
made  of  the  Saxon,  suffered  his  own  national  scorn  of 
villein  companionship  to  replace  his  artificial  urbanity. 
He  therefore  rode  alone,  and  a  little  in  advance  of  the 
rest,  noticing  with  a  soldier's  eye  the  characteristics  of 
the  country,  and  marvelling,  while  he  rejoiced,  at  the 
insignificance  of  the  defences  which,  even  on  the  marches, 
guarded  the  English  country  from  the  Cymrian  ravager. 
In  musings  of  no  very  auspicious  and  friendly  nature 
towards  the  land  he  thus  visited,  the  Norman,  on  the 
second  day  from  that  in  which  he  had  conversed  with  the 
abbot,  found  himself  amongst  the  savage  defiles  of  North 
Wales. 

Pausing  there  in  a  narrow  pass  overhung  with  wild 
and  desolate  rocks,  the  knight  deliberately  summoned  his 
28* 


330  HAROLD. 

squires,  clad  himself  in  his  ring-mail,  and  mounted  his 
great  destrier. 

"  Thou  dost  wrong,  Norman,"  said  Sexwolf,  "  thou 
fatiguest  thyself  in  vain  —  heavy  arms  here  are  needless. 
I  have  fought  in  this  country  before ;  and  as  for  thy 
steed,  thou  wilt  soon  have  to  forsake  it,  and  march  on 
foot." 

"Know,  friend,"  retorted  the  knight,  "that  I  come  not 
here  to  learn  the  horn-book  of  war ;  and,  for  the  rest, 
know  also,  that  a  noble  of  Normandy  parts  with  his  life 
ere  he  forsakes  his  good  steed." 

"  Ye  outlanders  and  Frenchmen,"  said  Sexwolf,  show- 
ing the  whole  of  his  teeth  through  his  forest  of  beard, 
"love  boast  and  big  talk;  and,  on  my  troth,  thou 
mayest  have  thy  belly  full  of  them  yet ;  for  we  are  still 
in  the  track  of  Harold,  and  Harold  never  leaves  behind 
him  a  foe.  Thou  art  as  safe  here  as  if  singing  psalms  in 
a  convent." 

"For  thy  jests,  let  them  pass,  courteous  sir,"  said  the 
Norman  ;  "  but  I  pray  thee  only  not  to  call  me  French- 
man.*    I  impute  it  to  thy  ignorance  in  things  comely 

*  The  Normans  and  French  detested  each  other;  and  it  was  the 
Norman  who  taught  to  the  Saxon  his  own  animosities  against  the 
Frank.  A  very  eminent  antiquary,  indeed,  De  la  Rue,  considered 
that  the  Bayeux  tapestry  could  not  be  the  work  of  Matilda,  or  her 
Age,  because  in  it  the  Normans  are  called  French;  but  that  is  a 
gross  blunder  on  his  part;  for  William,  in  his  own  charters,  calls 
the  Norntans  "  Franci."  Wace,  in  his  "Roman  de  Rou,"  often 
styles  the  Normans  "French;"  and  William  of  Poitiers,. a  contem- 
porary of  the  Conqueror,  gives  them  also  in  one  passage  the  sama 


HAROLD.  331 

and  martial,  and  not  to  thy  design  to  insult  me.  Though 
my  own  mother  was  French,  learn  that  a  Norman  despises 
a  Frank  only  less  than  he  doth  a  Jew." 

"Crave  your  grace,"  said  the  Saxon,  "but  I  thought 
all  ye  outlanders  were  the  same,  rib  and  rib,  sibbe  and 
sibbe." 

"Thou  wilt  know  better  one  of  these  days.  March 
on,  Master  Sexwolf." 

The  pass  gradually  opened  on  a  wide  patch  of  rugged 
and  herbless  waste  ;  and  Sexwolf,  riding  up  to  the  knight, 
directed  his  attention  to  a  stone,  on  which  was  inscribed 
the  words,  "Hie  victor  fuit  Haroldus." — Here  Harold 
conquered. 

"In  sight  of  a  stone  like  that,  no  Walloon  dare  come," 
said  the  Saxon. 

"A  simple  and  classical  trophy,"  remarked  the  Nor- 
man, complacently,  "  and  saith  much.  I  am  glad  to  see 
thy  lord  knows  the  Latin." 

"  I  say  not  that  he  knows  Latin,"  replied  the  prudent 
Saxon  ;  fearing  that  that  could  be  no  wholesome  infor- 
mation on  his  lord's  part,  which  was  of  a  kind  to  give 
gladness  to  the  Norman  —  "Ride  on  while  the  road  lets 
ye  —  in  God's  name." 

On  the  confines  of  Caernarvonshire,  the  troop  halted 
at  a  small  village,  round  which  had  been  newly  dug  a 
deep  military  trench,  bristling  with  palisades,  and  within 

name.  Still,  it  is  true  that  the  Normans  were  generally  very 
tenacious  of  their  distinction  from  their  gallant  but  hostile  neigh- 
bors. 


332  HAROLD. 

its  confines  might  be  seen  —  some  reclined  on  the  grass, 
some  at  dice,  some  drinking  —  many  men,  whose  garbs 
of  tanned  hide,  as  well  as  a  pennon  waving  from  a  little 
mound  in  the  midst,  bearing  the  tiger-heads  of  Earl 
Harold's  insignia,  showed  them  to  be  Saxons. 

"Here  we  shall  learn,"  said  Sexwolf,  "what  the  earl 
ie  about  —  and  here,  at  present,   ends  my  journey." 

"Are  these  the  earl's  head-quarters  then  ?  —  no  castle, 
even  of  wood — no  wall,  nought  but  ditch  and  palisades  ?" 
asked  Mallet  de  Graville  in  a  tone  between  surprise  and 
contempt. 

"  Norman,"  said  Sexwolf,  "  the  castle  is  there,  though 
you  see  it  not,  and  so  are  the  walls.  The  castle  is  Harold's 
name,  which  no  Walloon  will  dare  to  confront ;  and  the 
walls  are  the  heaps  of  the  slain  which  lie  in  every  valley 
around."  So  saying,  he  wound  his  horn,  which  was 
speedily  answered,  and  led  the  way  over  a  plank  which 
admitted  across  the  trench. 

"  Not  even  a  drawbridge  ! "  groaned  the  knight. 

Sexwolf  exchanged  a  few  words  with  one  who  seemed 
the  head  of  the  small  garrison,  and  then  regaining  the 
Norman,  said,  "the  earl  and  his  men  have  advanced  into 
the  mountainous  regions  of  Snowdon  ;  and  there,  it  is 
said,  the  blood-lusting  Gryffyth  is  at  length  driven  to  bay. 
Harold  hath  left  orders  that,  after  as  brief  a  refreshment 
as  may  be,  I  and  my  men,  taking  the  guide  he  hath  left 
for  us,  join  him  on  foot.  There  may  now  be  danger  :  for, 
though  Gryffyth  himself  may  be  pinned  to  his  heights,  he 
may  have  yet  some  friends  in  these  parts  to  start  up  from 


HAROLD  333 

crag  and  combe.  The  way  on  horse  is  impassable  ■ 
wherefore,  master  Norman,  as  our  quarrel  is  not  thine  nor 
thine  our  lord,  I  commend  thee  to  halt  here  in  peace  and 
in  safety,  with  the  sick  and  the  prisoners." 

"It  is  a  merry  companionship,  doubtless,"  said  the 
Norman  ;  "  but  one  travels  to  learn,  and  I  would  fain  see 
somewhat  of  thine  uncivil  skirmishings  with  these  men 
of  the  mountains ;  wherefore,  as  I  fear  my  poor  mules 
are  light  of  the  provender,  give  me  to  eat  and  to  drink. 
And  then  shalt  thou  see,  should  we  come  in  sight  of  the 
enemy,  if  a  Norman's  big  words  are  the  sauce  of  small 
deeds." 

"Well  spoken,  and  better  than  I  reckoned  on/'  said 
Sexwolf,  heartily. 

While  De  Graville,  alighting,  sauntered  about  the 
village,  the  rest  of  the  troop  exchanged  greetings  with 
their  countrymen.  It  was,  even  to  the  warrior's  eye,  a 
mournful  scene.  Here  and  there,  heaps  of  ashes  and  ruin 
— houses  riddled  and  burned— the  small,  humble  church, 
untouched  indeed  by  war,  but  looking  desolate  and  for- 
lorn— with  sheep  grazing  on  large  recent  mounds  thrown 
over  the  brave  dead,  who  slept  in  the  ancestral  spot  they 
had  defended. 

The  air  was  fragrant  with  the  spicy  smells  of  the  gale 
or  bog-myrtle  ;  and  the  village  lay  sequestered  in  a  scene 
wild  indeed  and  savage,  but  prodigal  of  a  stern  beauty 
to  which  the  Norman,  poet  by  race,  and  scholar  by  cul- 
ture, was  not  insensible.  Seating  himself  on  a  rude  stone, 
apart  from  all  the  warlike   and   murmuring  groups,  he 


334  HAROLD. 

looked  forth  on  the  dim  and  vast  mountain-peaks,  and 
the  rivulet  that  rushed  below,  intersecting  the  village,  and 
lost  amidst  copses  of  mountain-ash.  From  these  more 
refined  contemplations,  he  was  roused  by  Sexwolf,  who, 
with  greater  courtesy  than  was  habitual  to  him,  accom- 
panied the  theowes  who  brought  the  knight  a  repast,  con- 
sisting of  cheese,  and  small  pieces  of  seethed  kid,  with  a 
large  horn  of  very  indifferent  mead. 

"  The  earl  puts  all  his  men  on  Welch  diet,"  said  the 
captain  apologetically  ;  "  for,  indeed,  in  this  lengthy  war- 
fare, nought  else  is  to  be  had!" 

The  knight  curiously  inspected  the  cheese,  and  bent 
earnestly  over  the  kid. 

"  It  sufficeth,  good  Sexwolf,"  said  he,  suppressing  & 
natural  sigh  :  "but  instead  of  this  honey-drink,  which  is 
more  fit  for  bees  than  for  men,  get  me  a  draught  of  fresh 
water:  water  is  your  only  safe  drink  before  fighting." 

"  Thou  hast  never  drunk  ale,  then  !  "  said  the  Saxon  ; 
"but  thy  foreign  tastes  shall  be  heeded,  strange  man." 

A  little  after  noon  the  horns  were  sounded,  and  the 
troop  prepared  to  depart.  But  the  Norman  observed 
that  they  had  left  behind  all  their  horses  ;  and  his  squire 
approaching,  informed  him  "that  Sexwolf  had  positively 
forbidden  the  knight's  steed  to  be  brought  forth. 

"Was  it  ever  heard  before,"  cried  Sire  Mallet  de  Gra- 
ville,  "that  a  Norman  knight  was  expected  to  walk,  and 
to  walk  against  a  foe  too  !  Call  hither  the  villein, — that 
is,  the  captain." 

But  Sexwolf  himself  here  appeared,  and  to  him  De 


HAROLD  335 

Grarille  addressed  his  indignant  remonstrance.  The 
Saxon  stood  firm,  and  to  each  argument  replied  simply, 
"  It  is  the'earPs  orders;"  and  finally  wound  up  with  a 
bluff — "  Go,  or  let  alone;  stay  here  with  thy  horse,  or 
march  with  us  on  thy  feet." 

"  My  horse  is  a  gentleman,"  answered  the  knight, 
14  and,  as  such,  would  be  my  more  fitting  companion  ;  but, 
as  it  is,  I  yield  to  compulsion  —  I  bid  thee  solemnly  ob- 
serve, by  compulsion  ;  so  that  it  may  never  be  said  of 
William  Mallett  de  Graville,  that  he  walked,  bon  gre,  to 
battle."  With  that,  he  loosened  his  sword  in  the  sheath, 
and,  still  retaining  his  ring-mail,  fitting  close  as  a  shirt, 
strode  on  with  the  rest. 

A  Welch  guide,  subject  to  one  of  the  under-kings  (who 
was  in  allegiance  to  England,  and  animated,  as  many  of 
those  petty  chiefs  were,  with  a  vindictive  jealousy  against 
the  rival  tribe  of  Gryffyth,  far  more  intense  than  his  dis- 
like of  the  Saxon),  led  the  way. 

The  road  wound  for  some  time  along  the  course  of  the 
river  Conway ;  Penmaen-mawr  loomed  before  them. 
Not  a  human  being  came  in  sight,  not  a  goat  was  seen 
on  the  distant  ridges,  not  a  sheep  on  the  pastures.  The 
solitude  in  the  glare  of  the  broad  August  sun  was  op- 
pressive. Some  houses  they  passed  —  if  buildings  of 
rough  stones,  containing  but  a  single  room,  can  be  called 
houses  —  but  they  were  deserted.  Desolation  preceded 
their  way,  for  they  were  on  the  track  of  Harold  the 
Victor.  At  length,  they  passed  the  old  Conovium,  now 
Caer-hen,  lying  near  the  river.     There  were  still  (not  as 


336  HAROLD. 

we  now  scarcely  discern  them,  after  centuries  of  havoc) 
the  mighty  ruins  of  the  Romans,  —  vast  shattered  walls, 
a  tower  half  demolished,  visible  remnants  of  gigantic 
baths,  and,  proudly  rising  near  the  present  ferry  of  Tal- 
y-Cafn,  the  fortress,  almost  unmutilated,  of  Castell-y- 
Bryn.  On  the  castle  waved  the  pennon  of  Harold. 
Many  large  flat-bottomed  boats  were  moored  to  the 
river-side,  and  the  whole  place  bristled  with  spears  and 
javelins. 

Much  comforted  (for,  —  though  he  disdained  to  mur- 
mur, and  rather  than  forego  his  mail,  would  have  died 
therein  a  martyr,  —  Mallett  de  Graville  was  mightily 
wearied  by  the  weight  of  his  steel),  and  hoping  now  to 
see  Harold  himself,  the  knight  sprang  forward  with  a 
spasmodic  effort  at  liveliness,  and  found  himself  in  the 
midst  of  a  group,  among  whom  he  recognized  at  a  glance 
his  old  acquaintance,  Godrith.  Doffing  his  helm  with  its 
long  nose-piece,  he  caught  the  thegn's  hand,  and  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  Well  met,  ventre  de  Guillaume!  well  met,  0  Godree, 
the  debonnair  !  Thou  rememberest  Mallett  de  Graville, 
and  in  this  unseemly  guise,  on  foot,  and  with  villeins, 
sweating  under  the  eyes  of  plebeian  Phoebus,  thou  be- 
ll oldest  that  much-suffering  man!" 

"  Welcome,  indeed,"  returned  Godrith,  with  some  em- 
barrassment;  "but  how  earnest  thou  hither,  and  whom 
seekest  thou  ?  " 

"  Harold,  thy  count,  man  —  and  I  trust  he  is  here." 

"  Not  so,  but  not  far  distant — at  a  place  by  the  mouth 


r 


HAROLD.  337 

of  the  river  called  Caer  Gyffin  *  Thou  shalt  take  boat, 
and  be  there  ere  the  sunset." 

"Is  a  battle  at  hand?  Yon  churl  disappointed  and 
tricked  me ;  he  promised  me  danger,  and  not  a  soul  have 
we  met." 

"Harold's  besom  sweeps  clean,"  answered  Godrith, 
smiling ;  "  but  thou  art  like,  perhaps,  to  be  in  at  the 
death.  We  have  driven  this  Welch  lion  to  bay  at  last — 
he  is  ours,  or  grim  Famine's.  Look  yonder  ;  "  and  God- 
rith pointed  to  the  heights  of  Penmaen-mawr.  "  Even 
at  this  distance  you  may  yet  descry  something  grey  and 
dim  against  the  sky." 

"Deemest  thou  my  eye  so  ill  practised  in  siege,  as  not 
to  see  towers  ?  Tall  and  massive  they  are,  though  they 
seem  here  as  airy  as  masts,  and  as  dwarfish  as  landmarks." 

"  On  that  hill-top,  and  in  those  towers,  is  Gryffyth,  the 
Welch  king,  with  the  last  of  his  force.  He  cannot  escape 
us ;  our  ships  guard  all  the  coasts  of  the  shore ;  our 
troops,  as  here,  surround  every  pass.  Spies,  night  and 
day,  keep  watch.  The  Welch  moels  (or  beacon-rocka, 
are  manned  by  our  warders ;  and,  were  the  Welch  king 
to  descend,  signals  would  blaze  from  post  to  post,  and 
gird  him  with  fire  and  sword.  From  land  to  land,  from 
hill  to  hill,  from  Hereford  to  Caerleon,  from  Caerleon  to 
Milford,  from  Milford  to  Snowdon,  through  Snowdon  to 
yonder  fort,  built,  they  say,  by  the  fiends  or  the  giants, 
—  through  defile  and  through  forest,  over  rock,  through 


*  The  present  town  and  castle  of  Conway. 
I  —29  w 


338  HAROLD. 

morass,  we  have  pressed  on  his  heels.  Battle  and  foray 
alike  have  drawn  the  blood  from  his  heart;  and  thou 
wilt  have  seen  the  drops  yet  red  on  the  way,  where  the 
stone  tells  that  Harold  was  victor." 

"A  brave  man  and  true  king,  then,  this  Gryffyth,"  said 
the  Norman,  with  some  admiration  ;  "  but,"  he  added  in 
a  colder  tone,  "  I  confess,  for  my  own  part,  that  though 
I  pity  the  valiant  man  beaten,  I  honor  the  brave  man 
who  wins  ;  and  though  I  have  seen  but  little  of  this  rough 
land  as  yet,  I  can  well  judge  from  what  I  have  seen,  that 
no  captain,  not  of  patience  unwearied,  and  skill  most  con- 
summate, could  conquer  a  bold  enemy  in  a  country  where 
every  rock  is  a  fort." 

"  So  I  fear,"  answered  Godrith,  "that  my  countryman 
Rolf  found  ;  for  the  Welch  beat  him  sadly,  and  the  reason 
was  plain.  He  insisted  on  using  horses  where  no  horses 
could  climb,  and  attiring  men  in  full  armor  to  fight 
against  men  light  and  nimble  as  swallows,  that  skim  the 
earth,  then  are  lost  in  the  clouds.  Harold,  more  wise, 
turned  our  Saxons  into  Welchmen,  flying  as  they  flew, 
climbing  where  they  climbed ;  it  has  been  as  a  war  of  the 
birds.  And  now  there  rests  but  the  eagle,  in  his  last 
lonely  eyrie." 

'Thy  battles  have  improved  thy  eloquence  much, 
Messire  Godree,"  said'  the  Norman  condescendingly. 
"Nevertheless,  I  cannot  but  think  a  few  light  horse " 

"Could  scale  yon  mountain  brow?"  said  Godrith, 
laughing,  and  pointing  to  Penmaen-mawr. 

"  The  Norman  looked  and  was  silent,  though  he  thought 
to  himself,  "  That  Sexwolf  was  no  such  dolt  after  all !" 


BOOK    SEVENTH 


THE   WELCH   KING. 


CHAPTER   I. 

The  sun  had  just  cast  its  last  beams  over  the  breadth 
of  water  into  which  Conway,  or  rather  Cyn-wy,  "the 
great  river,"  emerges  its  winding  waves.  Not  at  that 
time  existed  the  matchless  castle,  which  is  now  the  mo- 
nument of  Edward  Plantagenet,  and  the  boast  of  Wales. 
But  besides  all  the  beauty  the  spot  took  from  nature,  i^ 
had  even  some  claim  from  ancient  art.  A  rude  fortress 
rose  above  the  stream  of  Gyffin,  out  of  the  wrecks  of 
some  greater  Roman  hold,*  and  vast  ruins  of  a  former 
town  lay  round  it ;  while  opposite  the  fort,  on  the  huge 
and  ragged  promontory  of  Gogarth,  might  still  be  seen, 
forlorn  and  grey,  the  wrecks  of  the  imperial  city,  de- 
stroyed ages  before  by  lightning. 

All  these  remains  of  a  power  and  a  pomp  that  Rome 
m  vain  had  bequeathed  to  the  Briton,  were  full  of  pa- 

*  See  Camden's  Britannia,  "  Caernarvonshire." 

(339) 


340  HAROLD. 

thetic  and  solemn  interest,  when  blent  with  the  thought, 
that  on  yonder  steep,  the  brave  prince  of  a  race  of 
heroes,  whose  Hue  transcended,  by  ages,  all  the  other 
royalties  of  the  North,  awaited,  amidst  the  ruins  of  man, 
and  in  the  stronghold  which  nature  yet  gave,  the  hour 
of  his  doom. 

But  these  were  not  the  sentiments  of  ttie  martial  and 
observant  Norman,  with  the  fresh  blood  of  a  new  race 
of  conquerors.  ** 

"In  this  land,"  thought  he,  "far  more  even  than  in 
that  of  the  Saxon,  there  are  the  ruins  of  old  ;  and  when 
the  present  can  neither  maintain  nor  repair  the  past,  its 
future  is  subjection  or  despair." 

Agreeably  to  the  peculiar  usages  of  Saxon  military 
skill,  which  seems  to  have  placed  all  strength  in  dykes 
and  ditches,  as  being  perhaps  the  cheapest  and  readiest 
outworks,  a  new  trench  had  been  made  round  the  fort, 
pu  two  sides,  connecting  it  on  the  third  and  fourth  with 
the  streams  of  Gyffin  and  the  Conway.  But  the  boat 
was  rowed  up  to  the  very  walls,  and  the  Norman,  spring- 
ing to  land,  was  soon  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the 
earl. 

Harold  was  seated  before  a  rude  table,  and  bending 
over  a  rough  map  of  the  great  mountain  of  Penmaen  ; 
a  lamp  of  iron  stood  beside  the  map,  though  the  air  was 
yet  clear.     , 

The  earl  rose,  as  De  Graville,  entering  with  the  proud 
but  easy  grace  habitual  to  his  countrymen,  said,  in  his 
best  Saxon, — 


HAROLD.  341 

"Hail  to  Earl  Harold!  William  Mallet  de  Graville, 
the  Norman,  greets  him,  and  brings  him  news  from  be- 
yond the  seas."  % 

There  was  only  one  seat  in  that  bare  room  —  the  seat 
from  which  the  earl  had  risen.  He  placed  it  with  simple 
courtesy  before  his  visitor,  and,  leaning  himself  against 
the  table,  said,  in  the  Norman  tongue,  which  he  spoke 
fluently, — 

"  It  is  no  slight  thanks  that  I  owe  to  the  Sire  de  Gra- 
ville, that  he  hath  undertaken  voyage  and  journey  on  my 
behalf;  but  before  you  impart  your  news,  I  pray  you  to 
take  rest  and  food." 

"  Rest  will  not  be  unwelcome  ;  and  food,  if  unrestricted 
to  goats'  cheese,  and  kid-flesh,  —  luxuries,  new  to  my 
palate, — will  not  be  untempting  ;  but  neither  food  nor 
rest  can  I  take,  noble  Harold,  before  I  excuse  myself,  as 
a  foreigner,  for  thus  somewhat  infringing  your  laws  by 
which  we  are  banished,  and  acknowledging  gratefully  the 
courteous  behavior  I  have  met  from  thy  countrymen  not- 
withstanding." 

"  Fair  Sir,"  answered  Harold,  "  pardon  us  if,  jealous 
of  our  laws,  we  have  seemed  inhospitable  to  those  who 
would  meddle  with  them.     But  the  Saxon  is  never  more 
pleased  than  when  the  foreigner  visits  him  only  as  the 
friend  :  to  the  many  who  settle  amongst  us  for  commerce    i 
— Fleming,  Lombard,  German,  and  Saracen — we  proffer 
shelter  and  welcome ;  to  the  few  who,  like  thee,  Sir  Nor-  , 
man,  venture  over  the  seas  but  to  serve  us,  we  give  frark 
sheer  and  free  hand." 
29* 


342  HAROLD. 

Agreeably  surprised  at  this  gracious  reception  from 
the  son  of  Godwin,  the  Norman  pressed  the  hand  ex- 
tended to  hjm,  and  then  drew  forth  a  small  case,  and 
related  accurately,  and  with  feeling,  the  meeting  of  his 
cousin  with  Sweyn,  and  Sweyn's  dying  charge. 

The  earl  listened,  with  eyes  bent  on  the  ground,  ani 
face  turned  from  the  lamp ;  and,  when  Mallet  had  con- 
cluded his  recital,  Harold  said,  with  an  emotion  he  strug- 
gled in  vain  to  repress, — 

"  I  thank  you  cordially,  gentle  Norman,  for  kindness 
kindly  rendered  !  I — I — "  The  voice  faltered.  "  Sweyn 
was  very  dear  to  me  in  his  sorrows  !  We  heard  that  he 
had  died  in  Lycia,  and  grieved  much  and  long.    So,  after 

he  had  thus  spoken  to  your  cousin,  he — he Alas  !    O 

Sweyn,  my  brother  !  " 

"  He  died,"  said  the  Norman,  soothingly  ;  "  but  shriven 
and  absolved  ;  and  my  cousin  says,  calm  and  hopeful,  as 
they  die  ever  who  have  knelt  at  the  Savior's  tomb  ! " 

Harold  bowed  his  head,  and  turned  the  case  that  held 
the  letter  again  and  again  in  his  hand,  but  would  not 
venture  to  open  it.  The  knight  himself,  touched  by  a 
grief  so  simple  and  manly,  rose  with  the  delicate  instinct 
that  belongs  to  sympathy,  and  retired  to  the  door,  with- 
out which  yet  waited  the  officer  who  had  conducted  him. 

Harold  did  not  attempt  to  detain  him,  but  followed 
him  across  the  threshold,  and  briefly  commanding  the 
officer  to  attend  to  his  guest  as  to  himself,  said  —  "With 
the  morning,  Sire  de  Graville,  we  shall  meet  again  ;  I  see 


HAROLD.  345 

that  you  are  one  to  whom  I  need  not  excuse  man's  na- 
tural emotions. " 

"A  noble  presence  ! "  muttered  the  knight,  as  he  de- 
scended the  stairs  ;  "but  he  hath  Norman,  at  least  Norse 
blood  in  his  veins  on  the  distaff  side  — Fair  Sir  !  w — (this 
aloud  to  the  officer)  —  "  any  meat  save  the  kid-flesh,  I 
pray  thee  ;   and  any  drink  save  the  mead  ! " 

"Fear  not,  guest,"  said  the  officer;  "for  Tostig  the 
earl  hath  two  ships  in  yon  bay,  and  hath  sent  us  supplies 
that  would  please  Bishop  William  of  London  ;  for  Tostig 
the  Earl  is  a  toothsome  man." 

"  Commend  me,  then,  to  Tostig  the  Earl,"  said  the 
knight;  "he  is  an  earl  after  my  own  heart." 


CHAPTER    II. 

On  re-entering  the  room,  Harold  drew  the  large  bolt 
across  the  door,  opened  the  case,  and  took  forth  the  dis- 
tained  and  tattered  scroll :  — 

"  When  this  comes  to  thee,  Harold,  the  brother  of  thy 
childish  days  will  sleep  in  the  flesh,  and  be  lost  to  men?s 
judgment  and  earth's  woe  in  the  spirit.  I  have  knelt  at 
the  Tomb  ;  but  no  dove  hath  come  forth  from  the  cloid, 
— no  stream  of  grace  hath  re-baptized  the  child  of  wrath  ! 
They  tell  me,  now  —  monk  and  priest  tell  me  —  that  I 
have  atoned  all  my  sins ;  that  the  dread  weregeld  is 
paid ;  that  I  may  enter  the  Torld  of  men  with  a  spirit 


344  HAROLD. 

free  from  the  load,  and  a  name  redeemed  from  the  stain. 
Think  so,  0  brother  !  —  Bid  my  father  (if  he  still  lives, 
the  dear  old  man  !)  think  so  ; — tell  Githa  to  think  it; 
and  oh,  teach  Haco,  my  son,  to  hold  the  belief  as  a  truth  ! 
Harold,  again  I  commend  to  thee  my  son ;  be  to  him  as 
a  father  !  My  death  surely  releases  him  as  a  hostage. 
Let  him  not  grow  up  in  the  court  of  the  stranger,  in  the 
land  of  our  foes.  Let  his  feet,  in  his  youth,  climb  the 
green  holts  of  England  ; — let  his  eyes,  ere  sin  dims  them, 
drink  the  blue  of  her  skies  !  When  this  shall  reach  thee, 
thou,  in  thy  calm,  effortless  strength,  will  be  more  great 
than  Godwin  our  father.  Power  came  to  him  with 
travail  and  through  toil,  the  geld  of  craft  and  of  force. 
Power  is  born  to  thee  as  strength  to  the  strong  man  ;  it 
gathers  around  thee  as  thou  movest ;  it  is  not  thine  aim, 
it  is  thy  nature  to  be  great.  Shield  my  child  with  thy 
might ;  lead  him  forth  from  the  prison-house  by  thy 
serene  right  hand  !  I  ask  not  for  lordships  and  earl- 
doms, as  the  appanage  of  his  father;  train  him  not  to  be 
rival  to  thee  :  —  I  ask  but  for  freedom,  and  English  air  ! 
So  counting  on  thee,  O  Harold,  I  turn  my  face  to  the 
wall,  and  hush  my  wild  heart  to  peace  ! " 

The  scroll  dropped  noiseless  from  Harold's  hand. 

"  Thus,"  said  he,  mournfully,  "hath  passed  away  less 
a  life  than  a  dream  !  Yet  of  Sweyn,  in  our  childhood, 
was  Godwin  most  proud  ;  who  so  lovely  in  peace,  and  so 
terrible  in  wrath  ?  My  mother  taught  him  the  songs  of 
the  Baltic,  and  Hilda  led  his  steps  through  the  woodland 
with  tales  of  hero  and  scald.     Alone  of  our  House,  he 


HAROLD.  345 

had  the  gift  of  the  Dane  in  the  flow  of  fierce  song,  and 
for  him  things  lifeless  had  being.  Stately  tree,  from 
which  all  the  birds  of  heaven  sent  their  carol ;  where  the 
falcon  took  roost,  whence  the  mavis  flew  forth  in  its  glee, 
—  how  art  thou  blasted  and  seared,  bough  and  core  !  — 
smit  by  the  lightning  and  consumed  by  the  worm  ! " 

He  paused,  and,  though  none  were  by,  he  long  shaded 
his  brow  with  his  hand. 

"  Now,"  thought  he,  as  he  rose  and  slowly  paced  the 
chamber,  "now  to  what  lives  yet  on  earth  —  his  son! 
Often  hath  my  mother  urged  me  in  behalf  of  these  hos- 
tages ;  and  often  have  I  sent  to  reclaim  them.  Smooth 
and  false  pretexts  have  met  my  own  demand,  and  even 
the  remonstrance  of  Edward  himself.  But  surely,  now 
that  "William  hath  permitted  this  Norman  to  bring  over 
the  letter,  he  will  assent  to  what  it  hath  become  a  wrong 
and  an  insult  to  refuse ;  and  Haco  will  return  to  his 
father's  land,  and  Wolnoth  to  his  mother's  arms." 


CHAPTER   III. 

Messire  Mallet  de  Graville  (as  becomes  a  man 
bred  up  to  arms,  and  snatching  sleep  with  quick  grasp 
whenever  that  blessing  be  his  to  command)  no  sooner, 
laid  his  head  on  the  pallet  to  which  he  had  been  con- 
signed, than  his  eyes  closed,  and  his  senses  were  deaf 
even  to  dreams.     But  at  the  dead  of  the  midnight  he  was 

29* 


346  HAROLD. 

wakened  by  sounds  that  might  have  roused  the  Seveu 
Sleepers  —  shouts,  cries,  and  yells,  the  blast  of  horns,  the 
tramp  of  feet,  and  the  more  distant  roar  of  hurrying 
multitudes.  He  leaped  from  his  bed,  and  the  whole 
chamber  was  filled  with  a  lurid  blood-red  air.  His  first 
thought  was  that  the  fort  was  on  fire.  But  springing 
upon  the  settle  along  the  wall,  and  looking  through  the 
loophole  of  the  tower,  it  seemed  as  if  not  the  fort  but  the 
whole  land  was  one  flame,  and  through  the  glowing 
atmosphere  he  beheld  all  the  ground,  near  and  far, 
swarming  with  men.  Hundreds  were  swimming  the 
rivulet,  clambering  up  dyke  mounds,  rushing  on  the 
levelled  spears  of  the  defenders,  breaking  through  line 
and  palisade,  pouring  into  the  enclosures  ;  some  in  half- 
armor  of  helm  and  corslet — others  in  linen  tunics — many 
almost  naked.  Loud  sharp  shrieks  of  "  Alleluia  I  "  * 
blended  with  those  of  "  Out !  out !  Holy  crosse  !  "  f  He 
divined  at  once  that  the  Welch  were  storming  the  Saxon 
hold.     Short  time  indeed  sufficed  for  that  active  knight 

*  When  (a.  d.  220)  the  bishops,  Germanicus  and  Lupus,  headed 
the  Britons  against  the  Picts  and  Saxons,  in  Easter  week,  fresh 
from  their  baptism  in  the  Alyn,  Germanicus  ordered  them  to 
attend  to  his  war-cry,  and  repeat  it,  he  gave  "  Alleluia."  The 
hills  so  loudly  re-echoed  the  cry,  that  the  enemy  caught  panic,  and 
fled  with  great  slaughter.  Maes  Garmon,  in  Flintshire,  was  the 
scene  of  the  victory. 

j-  The  cry  of  the  English  at  the  onset  of  battle  was  "  Holy  Crosse, 
God  Almighty ;"  afterwards  in  fight,  "  Ouct,  ouct,"  out,  out, — 
Hearne's  Disc.  Antiquity  of  Motts. 

The  latter  cry  probably,  originated  in  the  habit  of  defending 
their  standard  and  central  posts  with  barricades  and  closed  shields  j 
and  thus,  idiomatically  and  vulgarly,  signified  ;'get  out." 


HAROLD.  347 

to  case  himself  in  his  mail ;  and,  sword  in  hand,  he  burst 
through  the  door,  cleared  the  stairs,  and  gained  the  hall 
below,  which  was  filled  with  men  arming  in  haste. 
"  Where  is  Harold  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  On  the  trenches  already,"  answered  Sexwolf,  buck- 
ling his  corslet  of  hide.  "  This  Welch  hell  hath  broke 
loose." 

"And  yon  are  their  beacon-fires  ?  Then  the  wThole 
land  is  upon  us  ! " 

"  Prate  less,"  quoth  Sexwolf;  "  those  are  the  hills  now 
held  by  the  warders  of  Harold  :  our  spies  gave  them 
notice,  and  the  watchfires  prepared  us  ere  the  fiends  came 
in  sight,  otherwise  we  had  been  lying  here  limbless  or 
neadless.     Now,  men,  draw  up,  and  march  forth." 

"  Hold  !  hold  ! "  cried  the  pious  knight,  crossing  him- 
self, "is  there  no  priest  here  to  bless  us  ?  first  a  prayer 
and  a  j)salm  !  " 

"  Prayer  and  psalm  !  "  cried  Sexwolf,  astonished,  "  an' 
thou  hadst  said  ale  and  mead,  I  could  have  understood 
thee. — Out!     Out!  —  Holyrood,  Holyrood  !  " 

"  The  godless  paynims  ! "  muttered  the  Norman,  borne 
away  with  the  crowd. 

Once  in  the  open  space,  the  scene  was  terrific.  Brief 
as  had  been  the  onslaught,  the  carnage  was  already  an- 
speakable.  By  dint  of  sheer  physical  numbers,  animated 
by  a  valor  that  seemed  as  the  frenzy  of  madmen  or  the 
hunger  of  wolves,  hosts  of  the  Britons  had  crossed  trench 
and  stream,  seizing  with  their  hands  the  points  of  the 
spears  opposed  to  them,  bounding  over  the  corpses  of 


348  HAROLD. 

their  countrymen,  and  with  yells  of  wild  joy  rushing  upon 
the  close  serried  lines  drawn  up  before  the  fort.  The 
stream  seemed  literally  to  run  gore  ;  pierced  by  javelins 
and  arrows,  corpses  floated  and  vanished,  while  numbers 
undeterred  by  the  havoc,  leaped  into  the  waves  from  the 
opposite  banks.  Like  bears  that  surround  the  ship  of  a 
sea-king  beneath  the  polar  meteors,  or  the  midnight  sun 
of  the  north,  came  the  savage  warriors  through  that 
glaring  atmosphere. 

Amidst  all,  two  forms  were  pre-eminent :  the  one,  tall 
and  towering,  stood  by  the  trench,  and  behind  a  banner, 
that  now  drooped  round  the  stave,  now  streamed  wide 
and  broad,  stirred  by  the  rush  of  men  —  for  the  night  in 
itself  was  breezeless.  With  a  vast  Danish  axe  wielded 
by  both  hands,  stood  this  man,  confronting  hundreds,  and 
at  each  stroke  rapid  as  the  levin,  fell  a  foe.  All  round 
him  was  a  wall  of  his  own — the  dead.  But  in  the  centre 
of  the  space,  leading  on  a  fresh  troop  of  shouting 
Welchmen  who  had  forced  their  way  from  another  part, 
was  a  form  which  seemed  charmed  against  arrow  and 
spear.  For  the  defensive  arms  of  this  chief  were  as 
slight  as  if  worn  but  for  ornament;  a  small  corslet  of 
gold  covered  only  the  centre  of  his  breast,  a  gold  collar 
of  twisted  wires  circled  his  throat,  and  a  gold  bracelet 
adorned  his  bare  arm,  dropping  gore,  not  his  own,  from 
the  wrist  to  the  elbow.  He  was  small  and  slight  shaped 
. —  below  the  common  standard  of  men  —  but  he  seemed 
as  one  made  a  giant  by  the  sublime  inspiration  of  war. 
He   wore  no  helmet,  merely  a  golden  circlet:   and  his 


HAROLD.  349 

hair,  of  deep  red  (longer  than  was  usual  with  the  Welch), 
hung  like  the  mane  of  a  lion  over  his  shoulders,  tossing 
loose  with  each  stride.  His  eyes  glared  like  the  tiger's 
at  night,  and  he  leaped  on  the  spears  with  a  bound. 
Lost  a  moment  amidst  hostile  ranks,  save  by  the  swift 
glitter  of  his  short  sword,  he  made,  amidst  all,  a  path  for 
himself  and  his  followers,  and  emerged  from  the  heart 
of  the  steel  unscathed  and  loud  breathing ;  while,  round 
the  line  he  had  broken,  wheeled  and  closed  his  wild  men, 
striking,  rushing,  slaying,  slain. 

"Pardex,  this  is  war  worth  the  sharing,"  said  the 
knight.  "And  now,  worthy  Sexwolf,  thou  shalt  see  if 
the  Norman  is  the  vaunter  thou  deemest  him.  Dieu 
nous  aide!  Notre  Dame!  —  Take  the  foe  in  the  rear." 
But  turning  round,  he  perceived  that  Sexwolf  had  already 
led  his  men  towards  the  standard,  which  showed  them 
where  stood  the  earl,  almost  alone  in  his  peril.  The 
knight,  thus  left  to  himself,  did  not  hesitate  :  —  a  minute 
more  and  he  was  in  the  midst  of  the  Welch  force,  headed 
by  the  chief  with  the  golden  panoply.  Secure  in  his 
ring-mail  against  the  light  weapons  of  the  Welch,  the 
sweep  of  the  Norman  sword  was  as  the  scythe  of  Becth. 
Right  and  left  he  smote  through  the  throng  which  he 
took  in  the  flank,  and  had  almost  gained  the  small 
phalanx  of  Saxons,  that  lay  firm  in  the  midst,  when  the 
Cymrian  chief's  flashing  eye  was  drawn  to  this  new  and 
strange  foe,  by  the  roar  and  the  groan  round  the  Nor- 
man's way ;  and  with  the  half-naked  breast  against  the 
shirt  of  mail,  and  the  short  Roman  sword  against  the 

I.  —  30 


350  HAROLD. 

long  Norman  falchion,  the  Lion  King  of  Wales  fronted 
the  knight. 

Unequal  as  seems  the  encounter,  so  quick  was  the 
spring  of  the  Briton,  so  pliant  his  arm,  and  so  rapid  his 
weapon,  that  that  good  knight  (who  rather  from  skill 
and  valor  than  brute  physical  strength,  ranked  amongst 
the  prowest  of  William's  band  of  martial  brothers)  would 
willingly  have  preferred  to  see  before  him  Fitzosborne  or 
Montgommeri,  all  clad  in  steel  and  armed  with  mace  and 
lance,  than  parried  those  dazzling  strokes,  and  fronted 
the  angry  majesty  of  that  helmless  brow.  Already  the 
strong  rings  of  his  mail  had  been  twice  pierced,  and  his 
blood  trickled  fast,  while  his  great  sword  had  but  smitten 
the  air  in  its  sweeps  at  the  foe ;  when  the  Saxon  pha- 
lanx, taking  advantage  of  the  breach  in  the  ring  that 
girt  them,  caused  by  this  diversion,  and  recognizing  witli 
fierce  ire  the  gold  torque  and  breast-plate  of  the  Welch 
king,  made  their  desperate  charge.  Then  for  some 
minutes  the  pele  mele  was  confused  and  indistinct — blows 
blind  and  at  random — death  coming  no  man  knew  whence 
or  how ;  till  discipline  and  steadfast  order,  (which  the 
Saxons  kept,  as  by  mechanism,  through  the  discord) 
obstinately  prevailed.  The  wedge  forced  its  way  ;  and, 
though  reduced  in  numbers  and  sore  wounded,  the  Saxon 
troop  cleared  the  ring,  and  joined  the  main  force  drawn 
up  by  the  fort,  and  guarded  in  the  rear  by  its  wall. 

Meanwhile  Harold,  supported  by  the  band  under  Sex- 
wolf,  had  succeeded  at  length  in  repelling  farther  rein- 
forcements of  the  Welch  at  the  more  accessible  part  of 


HAROLD.  351 

the  trenches;  and  casting  now  his  practised  eye  over  the 
field,  he  issued  orders  for  some  of  the  men  to  regain  the 
fort,  and  open  from  the  battlements,  and  from  every  loop- 
hole, tne  batteries  of  stone  and  javelin,  which  then  (with 
the  Saxons,  unskilled  in  sieges)  formed  the  main  artille:y 
of  forts.  These  orders  given,  he  planted  Sexwolf  and 
most  of  his  band  to  keep  watch  round  the  trenches  ;  and 
shading  his  eye  with  his  hand,  and  looking  towards  the 
moon,  all  waning  and  dimmed  in  the  watch-fires,  he  said 
calmly,  "  Now  patience  fights  for  us.  Ere  the  moon 
reaches  yon  hill-top,  the  troops  at  Aber  and  Caer-hen 
will  be  on  the  slopes  of  Penmaen,  and  cut  off  the  retreat 
of  the  Walloons.  Advance  my  flag  to  the  thick  of  yon 
strife." 

But  as  the  earl,  with  his  axe  swung  over  his  shoulder, 
and  followed  but  by  some  half-score  or  more  with  bis 
banner,  strode  on  where  the  wild  war  was  now  mainly 
concentered,  just  midway  between  trench  and  fort,  Gryf- 
fyth  caught  sight  both  of  the  banner  and  the  earl,  and 
left  the  press  at  the  very  moment  when  he  had  gained 
the  greatest  advantage  ;  and  when  indeed,  but  for  the 
Norman,  who,  wounded  as  he  was,  and  unused  to  fight 
on  foot,  stood  resolute  in  the  van,  the  Saxons,  wearied 
out  by  numbers,  and  falling  fast  beneath  the  javelins, 
would  have  fled  into  their  walls,  and  so  sealed  their  fate, 
— for  the  Welch  would  have  entered  at  their  heels. 

But  it  was  the  misfortune  of  the  Welch  heroes  never 
to  learn  that  war  is  a  science  ;  and  instead  of  now  cen- 
tering all  force  on  the  point  most  weakened,  the  whole 


352  HAROLD. 

field  vanished  from  the  fierce  eye  of  the  Welch  king,  when 
he  saw  the  banner  and  form  of  Harold. 

The  earl  beheld  the  coming  foe,  wheeling  round,  as  the 
hawk  on  the  heron  ;  halted,  drew  up  his  few  men  in  a 
semi-circle,  with  their  large  shields  as  a  rampart,  and 
their  levelled  spears  as  a  palisade ;  and  before  them  all, 
as  a  tower,  stood  Harold  with  his  axe.  In  a  minute 
more  he  was  surrounded  ;  and  through  the  rain  of  javelins 
that  poured  upon  him,  hissed  and  glittered  the  sword  of 
Gryffyth.  But  Harold,  more  practised  than  the  Sire  de 
Graville  in  the  sword-play  of  the  Welch,  and  unencum- 
bered by  other  defensive  armor  (save  only  the  helm,  which 
was  shaped  like  the  Norman's),  than  his  light  coat  of 
hide,  opposed  quickness  to  quickness,  and  suddenly  drop- 
ping his  axe,  sprang  upon  his  foe,  and  clasping  him  round 
with  the  left  arm,  with  the  right  hand  griped  at  his 
throat, — 

"  Yield,  and  quarter  !  —  yield,  for  thy  life,  son  of  Llew- 
ellyn ! » 

Strong  was  that  embrace,  and  death-like  that  gripe  ; 
yet,  as  the  snake  from  the  hand  of  the  dervise — as  a  ghost 
from  the  grasp  of  the  dreamer,  the  lithe  Cymrian  glided 
away,  and  the  broken  torque  was  all  that  remained  in  the 
clutch  of  Harold. 

At  this  moment  a  mighty  yell  of  despair  broke  from 
the  Welch  near  the  fort:  stones  and  javelins  rained  upon 
them  from  the  walls,  and  the  fierce  Norman  was  in  the 
midst,  with  his  sword  drinking  blood  ;  but  not  for  javelin, 
stone,  and  sword,  shrank  and  shouted  the  Welchmen.    On 


HAROLD.  353 

the  other  side  of  the  trenches  were  marching  against  triera 
their  own  countrymen,  the  rival  tribes  that  helped  the 
stranger  to  rend  the  land  ;  and  far  to  the  right  were  seen 
the  spears  of  the  Saxon  from  Aber,  and  to  the  left  was 
heard  the  shout  of  the  forces  under  Godrith  from  Caer- 
hen  ;  and  they  who  had  sought  the  leopard  in  his  lair 
were  now  themselves  the  prey  caught  in  the  toils.  With 
new  heart,  as  they  beheld  these  reinforcements,  the  Saxons 
pressed  on  ;  tumult,  and  flight,  and  indiscriminate  slaugh- 
ter, wrapped  the  field.  The  Welch  rushed  to  the  stream 
and  the  trenches  ;  and  in  the  bustle  and  hurlabaloo,  Gryf- 
fyth  was  swept  along,  as  a  bull  by  a  torrent ;  still  facing 
the  foe,  now  chiding,  now  smiting  his  own  men,  now  rush- 
ing alone  on  the  pursuers,  and  halting  their  onslaught, 
he  gained,  still  unwounded,  the  stream,  paused  a  moment, 
laughed  loud,  and  sprang  into  the  wave.  A  hundred 
javelins  hissed  into  the  sullen  and  bloody  waters. 
"  Hold  ! "  cried  Harold  the  earl,  lifting  his  hand  on  high, 
"  No  dastard  dart  at  the  brave  I " 


CHAPTER   IT. 

The  fugitive  Britons,  scarce  one-tenth  of  the  number 

that  had  first  rushed  to  the  attack, — performed  their  flight 

with  the  same  Parthian  rapidity  that  characterized  the 

assault ;  and  escaping  both  Welch  foe  and  Saxon,  though 

30*  x 


851  HAROLD. 

the  former  broke  ground  to  pursue  them,  they  regained 
the  steeps  of  Penmaen. 

There  was  no  further  thought  of  slumber  that  night 
within  the  walls.  While  the  wounded  were  tended,  and 
the  dead  were  cleared  from  the  soil,  Harold,  with  three 
of  his  chiefs,  and  Mallet  de  Graville,  whose  feats  rendered 
it  more  than  ungracious  to  refuse  his  request  that  he 
might  assist  in  the  council,  conferred  upon  the  means  of 
terminating  the  war  with  the  next  day.  Two  of  the 
thegns,  their  blood  hot  with  strife  and  revenge,  proposed 
to  scale  the  mountain  with  the  whole  force  the  reinforce- 
ments had  brought  them,  and  put  all  they  found  to  the 
sword. 

The  third,  old  and  prudent,  and  inured  to  Welch  war- 
fare, thought  otherwise. 

"  None  of  us,"  said  he,  "  know  what  is  the  true  strength 
of  the  place  which  ye  propose  to  storm.  Not  even  one 
Welchman  have  we  found  who  hath  ever  himself  gained 
the  summit,  or  examined  the  castle  which  is  said  to  exist 
there."* 

"  Said  !  "  echoed  de  Graville,  who,  relieved  of  his  mail, 
and  with  his  wounds  bandaged,  reclined  on  his  furs  on 
the  floor  "  Said,  noble  sir  !  Cannot  our  eyes  perceive 
the  towers  ! " 

The  old  thegn  shook  his  head.  "At  a  distance,  and 
through  mists,  stones  loom  large,  and  crags  themselves 

*  Certain  high  places  in  Wales,  of  which  this  might  well  be  one, 
were  held  so  sacred,  that  even  the  dwellers  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood never  presumed  to  approach  them. 


HAROLD.  355 

take  strange  shapes.  It  may  be  castle,  may  be  rock,  may 
be  old  roofless  temples  of  heathenesse  that  we  see.  But 
to  repeat  (and,  as  I  am  slow,  I  pray  not  again  to  be  put 
out  in  my  speech)  —  none  of  us  know  what,  there,  exists 
of  defence,  man-made  or  Nature-built.  Not  even  thy 
Welch  spies,  son  of  Godwin,  have  gained  to  the  heights. 
In  the  midst  lie  the  scouts  of  the  Welch  king,  and  those 
on  the  top  can  see  the  bird  fly,  the  goat  climb.  Few  of 
thy  spies,  indeed,  have  ever  returned  with  life ;  their 
heads  have  been  left  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  with  the  scroll 
in  their  lips, — *  Die  ad  inferos — quid  in  superis  novistV 
Tell  to  the  shades  below  what  thou  hast  seen  in  the 
heights  above." 

"And  the  Walloons  know  Latin  ! "  muttered  the  knight ; 
n  I  respect  them  !  " 

The  slow  thegn  frowned,  stammered,  and  renewed  — 
**  One  thing  at  least  is  clear ;  that  the  rock  is  well-nigh 
insurmountable  to  those  who  know  not  the  passes  ;  that 
strict  watch,  baffling  even  Welch  spies,  is  kept  night  and 
day ;  that  the  men  on  the  summit  are  desperate  and 
fierce  ;  that  our  own  troops  are  awed  and  terrified  by 
the  belief  of  the  Welch,  that  the  spot  is  haunted  and 
the  towers  fiend-founded.  One  single  defeat  may  lose  us 
two  years  of  victory.  Gryffyth  may  break  from  the  eyrie, 
regain  what  he  hath  lost,  win  back  our  Welch  allies,  ever 
faithless  and  hollow.  Wherefore,  I  say,  go  on  as  we  havo 
begun.  Beset  all  the  country  round  ;  cut  off  all  supplier, 
and  let  the  foe  rot  by  famine — or  waste,  as  he  hath  done 
this  night,  his  strength  by  vain  onslaught  and  sally." 


356  HAROLD. 

"  Thy  counsel  is  good,"  said  Harold,  "  but  there  is  yet 
something  to  add  to  it,  which  may  shorten  the  strife,  and 
gain  the  end  with  less  sacrifice  of  life.  The  defeat  of 
to-night  will  have  humbled  the  spirits  of  the  Welch  ;  take 
them  yet  in  the  hour  of  despair  and  disaster.  I  wish, 
therefore,  to  send  to  their  outposts  a  nuncius,  with  these 
terms  —  'Life  and  pardon  to  all  who  lay  down  arms  and 
surrender.'  " 

"  What,  after  such  havoc  and  gore  V  cried  one  of  the 
thegns. 

"  They  defend  their  own  soil,"  replied  the  earl  simply  : 
"had  not  we  done  the  same?" 

"  But  the -rebel  Gryffyth  ?  "  asked  the  old  thegn,  "  thou 
canst  not  accept  him  again  as  crowned  sub-king  of  Ed- 
ward ?  " 

"No,"  said  the  earl,  "I  propose  to  exempt  Gryffyth 
alone  from  the  pardon,  with  promise,  natheless,  of  life, 
if  he  give  himself  up  as  prisoner,  and  count,  without 
further  condition,  on  the  king's  mercy."  There  was  a 
prolonged  silence.  None  spoke  against  the  earPs  pro- 
posal, though  the  two  younger  thegns  misliked  it  much. 

At  last  said  the  elder,  "  But  hast  thou  thought  who 
will  carry  this  message  ?  Fierce  and  wild  are  yon  blood- 
dogs  ;  and  man  must  needs  shrive  soul  and  make  will,  if 
he  go  to  their  kennel." 

"  I  feel  sure  that  my  bode  will  be  safe,"  answered 
Harold  ;  "  for  Gryffyth  has  all  the  pride  of  a  king,  and, 
spanng  neither  man  nor  child  in  the  onslaught,  will  re- 


HAROLD.  357 

spect  what  the  Roman  taught  his  sires  to  respect — envoy 
from  chief  to  chief — as  a  head  scatheless  and  sacred." 

"  Choose  whom  thou  wilt,  Harold,"  said  one  of  the 
young  thegns,  laughing,  "but  spare  thy  friends;  and 
whomsoever  thou  choosest,  pay  his  widow  the  weregeld." 

"Fair  sirs,"  then  said  De  Graville,  "if  ye  think  that 
I,  though  a  stranger,  could  serve  you  as  nuncius,  it  would 
be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  undertake  this  mission.  First, 
because,  being  curious  as  concerns  forts  and  castles,  I 
would  fain  see  if  mine  eyes  have  deceived  me  in  taking 
yon  towers  for  a  hold  of  great  might.  Secondly,  because 
that  same  wild-cat  of  a  king  must  have  a  court  rare  to 
visit.  And  the  only  reflection  that  withholds  my  pressing 
the  offer  as  a  personal  suit  is,  that  though  I  have  some 
words  of  the  Breton  jargon  at  my  tongue's  need,  I  can- 
not pretend  to  be  a  Tully  in  Welch  ;  howbeit,  since  it 
seems  that  one,  at  least,  among  them  knows  something 
of  Latin,  I  doubt  not  but  what  I  shall  get  out  my  mean- 
ing !  » 

"Nay,  as  to  that,  Sire  de  Graville,"  said  Harold,  who 
seemed  well  pleased  with  the  knight's  offer,  "  there  shall 
be  no  hindrance  or  let,  as  I  will  make  clear  to  you;  and 
in  spite  of  what  you  have  just  heard,  Gryffyth  shall  harm 
you  not  in  limb  or  in  life.  But,  kindly  and  courteous  si;, 
will  your  wounds  permit  the  journey,  not  long,  but  steep 
and  laborious,  and  only  to  be  made  on  foot  ? " 

"  On  foot ! "  said  the  knight,  a  little  staggered,  "  Par* 
dex I  well  and  truly,  I  did  not  count  upon  that!" 


358  HAROLD. 

"  Enough,"  said  Harold,  turning  away  in  evident  dis- 
appointment, "think  of  it  no  more." 

"Nay,  by  your  leave,  what  I  have  once  said  I  stand 
to,"  returned  the  knight ;  "  albeit,  you  may  as  well  cleave 
in  two  one  of  those  respectable  centaurs  of  which  we 
have  read  in  our  youth,  as  part  Norman  and  horse.  I 
will  forthwith  go  to  my  chamber,  and  apparel  myself  be- 
comingly—  not  forgetting,  in  case  of  the  worst,  to  wear 
my  mail  under  my  robe.  Vouchsafe  me  but  an  armorer, 
just  to  rivet  up  the  rings  through  which  scratched  so 
felinely  the  paw  of  that  well-appelled  Griffin." 

"  I  accept  your  offer  frankly,"  said  Harold,  "  and  all 
shall  be  prepared  for  you,  as  soon  as  you  yourself  will 
re-seek  me  here." 

The  knight  rose,  and  though  somewhat  stiff  and  smart- 
ing with  his  wounds,  left  the  room  lightly,  summoned  his 
armorer  and  squire,  and  having  dressed  with  all  the  care 
and  pomp  habitual  to  a  Norman,  his  gold  chain  round 
his  neck,  and  his  vest  stiff  with  broidery,  he  re-entered 
the  apartment  of  Harold.  The  earl  received  him  alone, 
and  came  up  to  him  with  a  cordial  face.  "  I  thank  thee 
more,  brave  Norman,  than  I  ventured  to  say  before  my 
thegns,  for  I  tell  thee  frankly,  that  my  intent  and  aim  are 
to  save  the  life  of  this  brave  king ;  and  thou  canst  well 
understand  that  every  Saxon  amongst  us  must  have  his 
blood  warmed  by  contest,  and  his  eyes  blind  with  national 
hate.  You  alone,  as  a  stranger,  see  the  valiant  warrior 
and  hunted  prince,  and  as  such  you  can  feel  for  him  the 
noble  pity  of  manly  foes." 


iiarold.  359 

"That  is  true,"  said  De  Graville,  a  little  surprised, 
"  though  we  Normans  are  at  least  as  herce  as  you  Saxons, 
when  we  have  once  tasted  blood  ;  and  I  own  nothing 
would  please  me  better  than  to  dress  that  catamaran  in 
mail,  put  a  spear  in  its  claws,  and  a  horse  under  its  legs, 
and  thus  fight  out  ray  disgrace  at  being  so  clawed  and 
mauled  by  its  griffes.  And  though  I  respect  a  brave 
knight  in  distress,  I  can  scarce  extend  my  compassion  to 
a  thing  that  fights  against  all  rule,  martial  and  kingly." 

The  earl  smiled  gravely.  "  It  is  the  mode  in  which 
his  ancestors  rushed  on  the  spears  of  Csesar.  Pardon 
him." 

*M  pardon  him,  at  your  gracious  request,"  quoth  the 
knight,  with  a  grand  air,  and  waving  his  hands  ;  "  say 
on." 

"  You  will  proceed  with  a  Welch  monk — whom,  though 
not  of  the  faction  of  Gryffyth,  all  Welchmen  respect — to 
the  mouth  of  a  frightful  pass,  skirting  the  river ;  the 
monk  will  bear  aloft  the  holy  rood  in  signal  of  peace 
Arrived  at  that  pass,  you  will  doubtless  be  stopped.  The 
monk  here  will  be  spokesman  ;  and  ask  safe-conduct  to 
Gryffyth  to  deliver  my  message ;  he  will  also  bear  cer- 
tain tokens,  which  will  no  doubt  win  the  way  for  you. 

"Arrived  before  Gryffyth,  the  monk  will  accost  him  ; 
mark  and  heed  well  his  gestures,  since  thou  wilt  know 
not  the  Weclh  tongue  he  employs.  And  when  he  raises 
the  rood,  thou,  —  in  the  meanwhile,  having  artfully  ap- 
proached close  to  Gryffyth, — wilt  whisper  in  Saxon,  which 
he  well  understands,  and  pressing  the  ring  I  now  give 


360  HAROLD. 

thee  into  his  hand,  '  Obey  by  this  pledge  ;  thou  knowest 
Harold  is  true,  and  thy  head  is  sold  by  thine  own  people.' 
If  he  asks  more,  thou  knowest  nought." 

"So  far,  this  is  as  should  be  from  chief  to  chief,"  said 
the  Norman,  touched,  "and  thus  had  Fitzosborne  done 
to  his  foe.  I  thank  thee  for  this  mission,  and  the  more 
that  thou  hast  not  asked  me  to  note  the  strength  of  the 
bulwark,  and  number  the  men  that  may  keep  it." 

Again  Harold  smiled.  "Praise  me  not  for  this,  noble 
Norman  —  we  plain  Saxons  have  not  your  refinements. 
If  ye  are  led  to  the  summit,  which  I  think  ye  will  not  be, 
the  monk  at  least  will  have  eyes  to  see,  and  tongue  to 
relate.  But  to  thee  I  confide  this  much ;  —  I  know, 
already,  that  Gryffth's  strong-holds  are  not  his  walls  and 
his  towers,  but  the  superstition  of  our  men,  and  the 
despair  of  his  own.  I  could  win  those  heights,  as  I  have 
won  heights  as  cloud-capt,  but  with  fearful  loss  of  my 
own  troops,  and  the  massacre  of  every  foe.  Both  I  would 
spare,  if  I  may." 

"  Yet  thou  hast  not  shown  such  value  for  life,  in  the 
solitudes  I  passed,"  said  the  knight,  bluntly. 

Harold  turned  pale,  but  said  firmly,  "  Sire  de  Graville, 
a  stern  thing  is  duty,  and  resistless  is  its  voice.  These 
Welchmen,  unless  curbed  to  their  mountains,  eat  into 
the  strength  of  England,  as  the  tide  gnaws  into  a  shore. 
Merciless  were  they  in  their  ravages  on  our  borders,  and 
ghastly  and  torturing  their  fell  revenge.  But  it  is  one 
thing  to  grapple  with  a  foe  fierce  and  strong,  and  another 
to  smite  when  his  power  is  gone,  fang  and  talon.  And 
when  I  see  before  me  the  fated  king  of  a  great  race,  and 


HAROLD.  36l 

the  last  band  of  doomed  heroes,  too  few  and  too  feeble 
to  make  head  ageinst  my  arms — when  the  land  is  already 
my  own,  and  the  sword  is  that  of  the  deathsman,  not  of 
the  warrior  —  verily,  Sir  Norman,  duty  releases  its  iron 
tool,  and  man  becomes  man  again. " 

"  I  go,"  said  the  Norman,  inclining  his  head  low  as  to 
his  own  great  duke,  and  turning  to  the  door ;  yet  there 
he  paused,  and  looking  at  the  ring  which  he  had  placed 
ou  his  finger,  he  said,  "  But  one  word  more,  if  not  indis- 
creet—  your  answer  may  help  argument,  if  argument  be 
needed.     What  tale  lies  hid  in  this  token?" 

Harold  colored  and  paused  a  moment,  then  answered : 

"  Simply  this.  Gryffyth's  wife,  the  lady  Aldyth,  a 
Saxon  by  birth,  fell  into  my  hands.  We  were  storming 
Rhadlan,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  isle  ;  she  was  there. 
We  war  not  against  women  ;  I  feared  the  license  of  my 
own  soldiers,  and  I  sent  the  lady  to  Gryffyth.  Aldyth 
gave  me  this  ring  on  parting  ;  and  I  bade  her  tell  Gryffyth 
that  whenever,  at  the  hour  of  his  last  peril  and  sorest 
need,  I  sent  that  ring  back  to  him,  he  might  hold  it  the 
pledge  of  his  life." 

"Is  this  lady,  think  you,  in  the  strong-hold  with  her 
lord?" 

"  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  fear  yes,"  answered  Harold. 

"Yet  one  word.  And  if  Gryffyth  refuse,  despite  all 
warning  ?  " 

Harold's  eyes  drooped. 

"  If  so,  he  dies  ;  but  not  by  the  Saxon  sword.  God 
and  our  Lady  speed  you  ! " 

I.— 31 


362  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER  V. 

\,  On  the  height  called  Pen-y-Dinas  (or  "  Head  of  the 
City"\  forming  one  of  the  summits  of  Penmaen-mawr, 
and  in  the  heart  of  that  supposed  fortress  which  no  eye 
in  the  Saxon  camp  had  surveyed,  reclined  Gryflfyth,  the 
hunted  king.  Nor  is  it  marvellous  that  at  that  day  there 
should  be  disputes  as  to  the  nature  and  strength  of  the 
supposed  bulwark,  since,  in  times  the  most  recent,  and 
among  antiquaries  the  most  learned,  the  greatest  dis- 
crepancies exist,  not  only  as  to  theoretical  opinion,  but 
plain  matter  of  observation,  and  simple  measurement. 
The  place,  however,  I  need  scarcely  say,  was  not  as  we 
see  it  now,  with  its  foundations  of  gigantic  ruin,  afford- 
ing ample  space  for  conjecture  ;  yet,  even  then  a  wreck 
as  of  Titans,  its  date  and  purpose  were  lost  in  remote 
antiquity. 

The  central  area  (in  which  the  Welch  king  now  re- 
clined) formed  an  oval  barrow  of  loose  stones :  whether 
so  left  from  the  origin,  or  the  relics  of  some  vanished 
building,  was  unknown  even  to  bard  or  diviner.  Round 
this  space  were  four  strong  circumvallations  of  loose 
stones,  with  a  space  about  eighty  yards  between  each ; 
the  walls  themselves  generally  about  eight  feet  wide,  but 
of  various  height,  as  the  stones  had  fallen  by  time  and 


HAROLD.  363 

blast.  Along  these  walls  rose  numerous  and  almost 
countless  circular  buildings,  which  might  pass  for  towers, 
hough  only  a  few  had  been  recently  and  rudely  roofed 
n.  To  the  whole  of  this  quadruple  enclosure  there  was 
out  one  narrow  entrance,  now  left  open  as  if  in  scorn  of 
lssault]  and  a  winding  narrow  pass  down  the  mountain, 
tfith  innumerable  curves,  alone  led  to  the  single  threshold. 
Far  down  the  hill,  walls  again  were  visible  ;  and  the 
whole  surface  of  the  steep  soil,  more  than  half-way  in 
the  descent,  was  heaped  with  vast  loose  stones,  as  if  the 
bones  of  a  dead  city.  But  beyond  the  innermost  en- 
cjosure  of  the  fort  (if  fort,  or  sacred  enclosure,  be  the 
correcter  name),  rose  thick  and  frequent,  other  mementos 
of  the  Briton  ;  many  cromlechs,  already  shattered  and 
shapeless  ;  the  ruins  of  stone  houses  ;  and  high  over  all, 
those  upraised,  mighty  amber  piles,  as  at  Stonehenge, 
once  reared,  if  our  dim  learning  be  true,  in  honor  to 
Bel,  or  Bal-Huan,  the  idol  of  the  sun.  All,  in  short, 
showed  that  the  name  of  the  place,  "the  Head  of  the 
City,"  told  its  tale ;  all  announced  that,  there,  once  the 
Celt  had  his  home,  and  the  gods  of  the  Druid  their  wor- 
ship. And  musing  amidst  these  skeletons  of  the  past, 
lay  the  doomed  son  of  Pen  Dragon. 

Beside  him  a  kind  of  throne  had  been  raised  with 
stones,  and  over  it  was  spread  a  tattered  and  faded  velvet 
pall.  On  this  throne  sat  Aldyth  the  queen  ;  and  about 
the  royal  pair  was  still  that  mockery  of  a  court  which 
the  jealous  pride  of  the  Celt  king  retained  amidst  all  tho 
horrors  of  carnage  and  famine.     Most  of  the  officers, 


364  HAROLD. 

indeed  (originally  in  number  twenty-four),  whose  duties 
attached  them  to  the  king  and  queen  of  the  Cymry,  were 
already  feeding  the  crow  or  the  worm.  But  still,  with 
gaunt  hawk  on  his  wrist,  the  penhebogydd  (grand  fal- 
coner) stood  at  a  distance ;  still,  with  beard  sweeping 
his  breast,  and  rod  in  hand,  leaned  against  a  projecting 
shatt  of  the  wall,  the  noiseless  gosdegwr,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  command  silence  in  the  king's  hall ;  and  still  the 
penbard  bent  over  his  bruised  harp,  which  once  had 
thrilled,  through  the  fair  vaults  of  Caerleon  and  Rhadlan, 
in  high  praise  of  God,  and  the  king,  and  the  Hero  Dead. 
In  the  pomp  of  gold  dish  and  vessel  *  the  board  was 
spread  on  the  stones  for  the  king  and  queen ;  and  on  the 
dish  was  the  last  fragment  of  black  bread,  and  in  the 
vessel,  full  and  clear,  the  water  from  the  spring  that 
bubbled  up  everlastingly  through  the  bones  of  the  dead 
city. 

Beyond  this  innermost  space,  round  a  basin  of  rock, 

*  The  Welch  seem  to  have  had  a  profusion  of  the  precious 
metals,  very  disproportioned  to  the  scarcity  of  their  coined  money. 
To  say  nothing  of  the  torques,  bracelets,  and  even  breast-plates 
of  gold,  common  with  their  numereus  chiefs,  their  laws  affix  to 
offences  penalties  which  attest  the  prevalent  waste  both  of  gold 
and  silver.  Thus,  an  insult  to  a  sub-king  of  Aberfraw,  is  atoned 
by  a  silver  rod  as  thick  as  the  king's  little  finger,  which  is  in  length 
to  reach  from  the  ground  to  his  mouth  when  sitting;  and  a  gold 
cup,  with  a  cover  as  broad  as  the  king's  face,  and  the  thickness  of 
a  ploughman's  nail,  or  the  shell  of  a  goose's  egg.  I  suspect  that 
it  was  precisely  because  the  Welch  coined  little  or  no  money,  that 
the  metals  they  possessed  became  thus  common  in  domestic  use. 
Gold  would  have  been  more  rarely  seen,  even  amongst  the  Peru- 
vians, had  they  coined  it  into  money. 


HAROLD.  365 

through  which  the  stream  overflowed  as  from  an  artificial 
conduit,  lay  the  wounded  and  exhausted,  crawling,  turn 
by  turn,  to  the  lips  of  the  basin,  and  happy  that  the 
thirst  of  fever  saved  them  from  the  gnawing  desire  of 
food.  A  wan  and  spectral  figure  glided  listlessly  to  and 
fro  amidst  those  mangled,  and  parched,  and  dying  groups 
This  personage,  in  happier  times,  filled  the  office  of  phy- 
sician to  the  court,  and  was  placed  twelfth  in  rank  amidst 
the  chiefs  of  the  household.  And  for  cure  of  the  "  three 
deadly  wounds,"  the  cloven  skull,  or  the  gaping  viscera, 
or  the  broken  limb  (all  three  classed  alike),  large  should 
have  been  his  fee.*  But  fee-less  went  he  now  from  maL 
to  man,  with  his  red  ointment  and  his  muttered  charm  ; 
and  those  over  whom  he  shook  his  lean  face  and  matted 
locks,  smiled  ghastly  at  that  sign  that  release  and  death 
were  near.  Within  the  enclosures,  either  lay  supine,  or 
stalked  restless,  the  withered  remains  of  the  wild  army. 
A  sheep,  and  a  horse,  and  a  dog,  were  yet  left  them  all 
to  share  for  the  day's  meal.  And  the  fire  of  flickering 
and  crackling  brushwood  burned  bright  from  a  hollow 
amidst  the  loose  stones  ;  but  the  animals  were  yet  unslain, 
and  the  dog  crept  by  the  fire,  winking  at  it  with  dim 
eyes. 

But  over  the  lower  part  of  the  wall  nearest  to  the 
barrow,  leant  three  men.  The  wall  there  was  so  broken, 
that  they  could  gaze  over  it  on  that  grotesque  yet  dismal 
court ;  and  the  eyes  of  the  three  men,  with  a  fierce  and 
wolfish  glare,  were  bent  on  Gryffyth. 

*  Leges  Wallicae. 
31* 


366  HAROLD. 

Three  princes  were  they  of  the  great  old  line ;  far  as 
Gryffyth  they  traced  the  fabulous  honors  of  their  race, 
to  Hu-Gadarn  and  Prydain,  and  each  thought  it  shame 
that  Gryffyth  should  be  lord  over  him  !  Each  had  had 
throne  and  court  of  his  own;  each  his  "white  paluce" 
of  peeled  willow  wands  —  poor  substitutes,  0  kings,  for 
the  palaces  and  towers  that  the  arts  of  Rome  had  be- 
queathed your  fathers  !  And  each  had  been  subjugated 
by  the  son  of  Llewyllyn,  when,  in  his  day  of  might,  he 
reunited  under  his  sole  sway  all  the  multiform  principali- 
ties of  Wales,  and  regained,  for  a  moment's  splendor, 
the  throne  of  Roderic  the  Great. 

"Is  it,"  said  Owain,  in  a  hollow  whisper,  "for  yon 
man,  whom  Heaven  hath  deserted,  who  could  not  keep 
his  very  torque  from  the  gripe  of  the  Saxon,  that  we  are 
to  die  on  these  hills,  gnawing  the  flesh  from  our  bones  ? 
Think  ye  not  the  hour  is  come?" 

"  The  hour  will  come,  wrhen  the  sheep,  and  the  horse, 
and  the  dog  are  devoured,"  replied  Modred,  "  and  when 
the  whole  force,  as  one  man,  will  cry  +o  Gryffyth,  '.  Thou 
a  king!  —  give  us  bread!'" 

"It  is  well,"  said  the  third,  an  old  man,  leaning  on  a 
wand  of  solid  silver,  while  the  mountain  wind,  sweeping 
between  the  walls,  played  with  the  rags  of  his  robe,  — 
"it  is  well  that  the  night's  sally,  less  of  war  than  of 
hunger,  was  foiled  even  of  forage  and  food.  Had  the 
saints  been  with  Gryffyth,  who  had  dared  to  keep  faitb 
with  Tostig  the  Saxon  ?  " 

Owain  laughed,  a  laugh  hollow  and  false. 


HAROLD.  361 

"Art  thou  Cymrian,  and  talkest  of  faith  with  a  Saxon  ? 
Faith  with  the  spoiler,  the  ravisher,  and  butcher  ?  But 
a  Cymrian  keeps  faith  with  revenge  ;  and  Gryffyth's  trunk 
should  be  still  crownless  and  headless,  though  Tostighad 
never  proffered  the  barter  of  safety  and  food.  Hist ! 
Gryffyth  wakes  from  the  black  dream,  and  his  eyes  glow 
from  under  his  hair." 

And  indeed  at  this  moment  the  king  raised  himself  on 
his  elbow,  and  looked  round  with  a  haggard  and  fierce 
despair  in  his  glittering  eyes. 

"Play  to  us,  harper;  sing  some  song  of  the  deeds  of 
old  !  » 

The  bard  mournfully  strove  to  sweep  the  harp,  but  the 
chords  were  broken,  and  the  note  came  discordant  and 
shrill  as  the  sigh  of  a  wailing  fiend. 

"0  king!"  said  the  bard,  "the  music  hath  left  the 
harp." 

"Ha!"  murmured  Gryffyth,  "and  hope  the  earth! 
Bard,  answer  the  son  of  Llewyllyn.  Oft  in  my  halls  hast 
thou  sung  the  praise  of  the  men  that  have  been.  In  the 
halls  of  the  race  to  come,  will  bards  yet  unborn  sweep 
their  harps  to  the  deeds  of  thy  king  ?  Shall  they  tell  of 
the  3ay  of  Torques,  by  Llyn-Afange,  when  the  princes 
of  Powys  fled  from  his  sword  as  the  clouds  from  the  blast 
of  \he  wind  ?  Shall  they  sing,  as  the  Hirlas  goes  round, 
of  his  steeds  of  the  sea,  when  no  flag  came  in  sight  of 
h     prows  between  the  dark  isle  of  the  Druid  *  and  the 

*  Mona,   or  Anglesea. 


368  HAROLD. 

green  pastures  of  Huerdan  ?  *  Or  the  towns  that  he 
tired,  on  the  lands  of  the  Saxon,  when  Rolf  and  the 
Northmen  ran  fast  from  his  javelin  and  spear  ?  Or  say, 
Child  of  Truth,  if  all  that  is  told  of  Gryffyth  thy  king 
shall  be  his  woe  and  his  shame  ? " 

The  bard  swept  his  hand  over  his  eyes  and  answered, — 

"  Bards  unborn  shall  sing  of  Gryffyth  the  son  of 
Llewyllyn.  But  the  song  shall  not  dwell  on  the  pomp 
of  his  power,  when  twenty  sub-kings  knelt  at  his  throne, 
and  his  beacon  was  lighted  in  the  holds  of  the  Norman 
and  Saxon.  Bards  shall  sing  of  the  hero,  who  fought 
every  inch  of  crag  an.d  morass  in  the  front  of  his  men, — 
and  on  the  heights  of  Penmaen-mawr,  Fame  recovers  thy 
crown  ! " 

"  Then  I  have  lived  as  my  fathers  in  life,  and  shall  live 
with  their  glory  in  death  ! "  said  Gryffyth  ;  "  and  so  the 
shadow  hath  passed  from  my  soul."  Then  turning  round, 
still  propped  upon  his  elbow,  he  fixed  his  proud  eye  upon 
Aldyth,  and  said,  gravely,  "  Wife,  pale  is  thy  face,  and 
gloomy  thy  brow  :  mournest  thou  the  throne  or  the 
man  ?  " 

Aldyth  cast  on  her  wild  lord  a  look  of  more  terror 
than  compassion,  a  look  without  the  grief  that  is  gentle, 
or  the  love  that  reveres ;  and  answered, — 

"  What  matter  to  thee  my  thoughts  or  my  sufferings  ? 
The  sword  or  the  famine  is  the  doom  thou  hast  chosen. 
Listening  to  vain  dreams  from  thy  bard,  or  thine  own 

*  Ireland. 


HAROLD.  369 

pride  as  idle,  thou  disdainest  life  for  us  both  :  be  it  so  ; 
let  us  die  ! n 

A  strange  blending  of  fondness  and  wrath  troubled 
the  pride  on  Gryflyth's  features,  uncouth  and  half-savage 
as  they  were,  but  still  noble  and  kingly. 

"  And  what  terror  has  death,  if  thou  lovest  me  ? n 
said  he. 

Aldyth  shivered  and  turned  aside.  The  unhappy  king 
gazed  hard  on  that  face,  which,  despite  sore  trial  and 
recent  exposure  to  rough  wind  and  weather,  still  retained 
the  proverbial  beauty  of  the  Saxon  women  —  but  beauty 
without  the  glow  of  the  heart,  as  a  landscape  from  which 
sun-light  has  vanished  ;  and  as  he  gazed,  the  color  went 
and  came  fitfully  over  his  swarthy  cheeks,  whose  hue  con- 
trasted the  blue  of  his  eye,  and  the  red  tawny  gold  of  his 
shaggy  hair. 

"  Thou  wouldst  have  me,"  he  said  at  length,  "  send  to 
Harold  thy  countryman  ;  thou  wouldst  have  me,  me  — 
rightful  lord  of  all  Britain  —  beg  for  mercy,  and  sue  for 
life.  Ah,  traitress,,  and  child  of  robber-sires,  fair  as 
Rowena  art  thou,  but  no  Yortimer  am  I !  Thou  turnest 
in  loathing  from  the  lord  whose  marriage-gift  was  a 
crown  ;  and  the  sleek  form  of  thy  Saxon  Harold  rises  up 
through  the  clouds  of  the  carnage." 

All  the  fierce  and  dangerous  jealousy  of  man's  most 

human  passion — when  man  loves  and  hates  in  a  breath — 

trembled  in  the  Cymrian's  voice,  and  fired  his  troubled 

eye  ;  for  Aldyth's  pale  cheek  blushed  like  the  rose,  but 

31*  y 


3T0  HAROLD. 

she  folded  her  arms  haughtily  on  her  breast,  and  made 
no  reply. 

"  No,"  said  Gryffyth,  grinding  teeth,  white*  and  strong 
as  those  of  a  young  hound.  "  No,  Harold  in  vain  sent 
me  the  casket ;  the  jewel  was  gone.  In  vain  thy  form 
returned  to  my  side ;  thy  heart  was  away  with  thy  cap- 
tor :  and  not  to  save  my  life  (were  I  so  base  as  to  seek 
it),  but  to  see  once  more  the  face  of  him  to  whom  this 
cold  hand,  in  whose  veins  no  pulse  answers  my  own,  had 
been  given,  if  thy  House  had  consulted  its  daughter, 
wouldst  thou  have  me  crouch  like  a  lashed  dog  at  the 
feet  of  my  foe  ?  Oh  shame  !  shame  !  shame  !  Oh  worst 
perfidy  of  all  !  Oh  sharp  —  sharper  than  Saxon  sword 
or  serpent's  tooth,  is  —  is " 

Tears  gushed  to  those  fierce  eyes,  and  the  proud  king 
dared  not  trust  to  his  voice. 

Aldyth  rose  coldly.  "  Slay  me  if  thou  wilt — not  insult 
me.     I  have  said,  (  Let  us  die  ! '  " 

With  these  words,  and  vouchsafing  no  look  on  her 
lord,  she  moved  away  towards  the  largest  tower  or  cell, 
in  which  the  single  and  rude  chamber  it  contained  had 
been  set  apart  for  her. 

Gryffyth's  eye  followed  her,  softening  gradually  as  her 
form  receded,  till  lost  to  his  sight.  And  then  that  pecu- 
liar household  love,  which  in  uncultivated  breasts  often 
survives  trust  and  esteem,   rushed  back  on   his   rough 

*  The  Welch  were  then,  and  still  are,  remarkable  for  the  beauty 
of  their  teeth.  Giraldus  Cambrensis  observes,  as  something  very 
extraordinary,  that  they  cleaned  them 


HAROLD.  371 

heart,  and  weakened  it,  as  woman  only  can  weaken  the 
strong'  to  whom  Death  is  a  thought  of  scorn. 

He  signed  to  his  bard,  who,  daring  the  conference  be- 
tween wife  and  lord,  had  retired  to  a  distance,  and  said, 
with  a  writhing  attempt  to  smile  — 

"  Was  there  truth,  thinkest  thou,  in  the  legend,  that 
Guenever  was  false  to  King  Arthur?" 

"  No,"  answered  the  bard,  divining  his  lord's  thought, 
"for  Guenever  survived  not  the  king,  and  they  were 
buried  side  by  side  in  the  vale  of  Avallon." 

I1  Thou  art  wise  in  the  lore  of  the  heart,  and  love  hath 
been  thy  study  from  youth  to  grey  hairs.  Is  it  love,  is 
it  hate,  that  prefers  death  for  the  loved  one,  to  the 
thought  of  her  life  as  another's  ?  n 

A  look  of  the  tenderest  compassion  passed  over  the 
bard's  wan  face,  but  vanished  in  reverence,  as  he  bowed 
his  head  and  answered  — 

"0  king,  who  shall  say  what  note  the  wind  calls  from 
the  harp,  or  what  impulse  love  wakes  in  the  soul  —  now 
soft  and  now  stern  ?.  But,"  he  added,  raising  his  form, 
and  with  a  dread  calm  on  his  brow,  "but  the  love  of  a 
king  brooks  no  thought  of  dishonor,  and  she  who  hath 
laid  her  head  on  his  breast  should  sleep  in  his  grave." 

"  Thou  wilt  outlive  me,"  said  Gryffyth,  abruptly. 
"  This  earn  be  my  tomb  ! " 

"And  if  so,"  said  the  bard,  "thou  shalt  sleep  not 
alone.  In  this  earn  what  thou  lovest  best  shall  be  buried 
by  thy  side  ;  the  bard  shall  raise  his  song  over  thy  grave, 
and  the  bosses  of  shie^s  shall  be  placed  at  intervals,  as 


372  HAROLD. 

rises  and  falls  the  sound  of  song.  Over  the  grave  of 
two  shall  a  new  mound  arise,  and  we  will  bid  the  mound 
speak  to  others  in  the  far  days  to  come.  But  distant  yet 
be  the  hour  when  the  mighty  shall  be  laid  low  !  and  the 
tongue  of  thy  bard  may  yet  chant  the  rush  of  the  lion 
from  the  toils  and  the  spears.     Hope  still ! " 

Gryffyth,  for  answer,  leant  on  the  harper's  shoulder, 
and  pointed  silently  to  the  sea,  that  lay  lake-like  at  the 
distance,  dark  —  studded  with  the  Saxon  fleet.  Then 
turning,  his  hand  stretched  over  the  forms  that,  hollow- 
eyed  and  ghost-like,  flitted  between  the  walls,  or  lay 
dying,  but  mute,  around  the  water-spring.  His  hand 
then  dropped,  and  rested  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  sudden  commotion  at  the 
outer  entrance  of  the  wall ;  the  crowd  gathered  to  one 
spot,  and  there  was  a  loud  hum  of  voices.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments one  of  the  Welch  scouts  came  into  the  enclosure, 
and  the  chiefs  of  the  royal  tribes  followed  him  to  the 
cam  on  which  the  king  stood. 

"Of  what  tellest  thou?"  said  Gryffyth,  resuming  on 
the  instant  all  the  royalty  of  his  bearing. 

"At  the  mouth  of  the  pass,"  said  the  scout,  kneeling, 
"there  are  a  monk  bearing  the  holy  rood,  and  a  chief, 
unarmed.  And  the  monk  is  Evan,  the  Cymrian,  of 
Gwentland;  and  the  chief,  by  his  voice,  seemeth  not  to 
be  Saxon.  The  monk  bade  me  give  thee  these  tokens" 
(and  the  scout  displayed  the  broken  torque  which  the 
king  had  left  in  the  grasp  of  Harold,  together  with  a  live 
falcon  belled  and  blinded),  "  and  bade  me  say  thus  to  the 


HAROLD.  37? 

king — Harold  the  Earl  greets  Gryffyth,  son  of  Llewellyn, 
and  sends  him,  in  proof  of  good-will,  the  richest  prize 
he  hath  ever  won  from  a  foe ;  and  a  hawk,  from  Llan- 
dudno ;  — that  bird  which  chief  and  equal  give  to  equal 
and  chief.  And  he  prays  Gryffyth,  son  of  Llewellyn,  for 
the  sake  of  his  realm  and  his  people,  to  grant  hearing 
to  his  nuncius." 

A  murmur  broke  from  the  chiefs  —  a  murmur  of  joy 
and  surprise  from  all,  save  the  three  conspirators,  who 
interchanged  anxious  and  fiery  glances.  Gryffyth's  hand 
had  already  closed,  while  he  uttered  a  cry  that  seemed 
of  rapture,  on  the  collar  of  gold ;  for  the  loss  of  that 
collar  had  stung  him,  perhaps,  more  than  the  loss  of  the 
crown  of  all  Wales.  And  his  heart,  so  generous  and 
large,  amidst  all  its  rude  passions,  was  touched  by  the 
speech  and  the  tokens  that  honored  the  fallen  outlaw, 
both  as  foe  and  as  king.  Yet  in  his  face  there  was  still 
seen  a  moody  and  proud  struggle  ;  he  paused  before  he 
turned  to  the  chiefs. 

"  What  counsel  ye  —  ye  strong  in  battle,  and  wise  in 
debate?"  said  he. 

With  one  voice  all,  save  the  Fatal  Three,  exclaimed  : 

"Hear  the  monk,  0  king!" 

"  Shall  we  dissuade?"  whispered  Modred  to  the  old 
chief,  his  accomplice. 

"  No  ;  for  so  doing,  we  shall  offend  all :— and  we  jaust 
win  all." 

Then  the  bard  stepped  into  the  ring.     And  the  ring 

I.— 32 


^14  HAROLD. 

was  hushed,  for  wise  is  ever  the  counsel  of  him  whose 
book  is  the  human  heart. 

"  Hear  the  Saxons,"  said  he,  briefly,  and  with  an  air 
of  command  when  adressing  others,  which  contrasted 
strongly  his  tender  respect  to  the  king ;  "  hear  the 
Saxons,  but  not  in  these  walls.  Let  no  man  from  the 
foe  see  our  strength  or  our  weakness.  We  are  still 
mighty  and  impregnable,  while  our  dwelling  is  in  the 
realm  of  the  Unknown.  Let  the  king,  and  his  officers 
of  state,  and  his  chieftains  of  battle,  descend  to  the  pass. 
And  behind,  at  the  distance,  let  the  spearsmen  range 
from  cliff  to  cliff,  as  a  ladder  of  steel ;  so  will  their 
numbers  seem  the  greater." 

"  Thou  speakest  well,"  said  the  king. 

Meanwhile,  the  knight  and  the  monk  waited  below  at 
that  terrible  pass,*  which  then  lay  between  mountain 
and  river,  and  over  which  the  precipices  frowned,  with  a 
sense  of  horror  and  weight.  Looking  up,  the  knight 
murmured  — 

"  With  those  stones  and  crags  to  roll  down  on  a 
marching  army,  the  place  well  defies  storm  and  assault ; 
and  a  hundred  on  the  height  would  overmatch  thousands 
below." 

He  then  turned  to  address  a  few  words,  with  all  the 
far-famed  courtesy  of  Norman  and  Frank,  to  the  Welch 
guards  at  the  outpost.  They  were  picked  men ;  the 
strongest  and  best  armed  and  best  fed  of  the  group.    But 


*  I  believe  it  was  not  till  the  last  century  that  a  good  road  took 
the  place  of  this  pase 


HAROLD.  375 

they  shook  their  heads  and  answered  not,  gazing  at  him 
fiercely  and  showing  their  white  teeth,  as  dogs  at  a  bear 
before  they  are  loosened  from  the  band. 

11  They  understand  me  not,  poor  languageless  savages  !" 
said  Mallet  de  Graville,  turning  to  the  monk,  who  stood 
by  with  the  lifted  rood ;  "  speak  to  them  in  their  own 
jargon." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Welch  monk,  who,  though  of  a  rival 
tribe  from  South  Wales,  and  at  the  service  of  Harold, 
was  esteemed  throughout  the  land  for  piety  and  learning, 
"they  will  not  open  mouth  till  the  king's  orders  come  to 
receive,  or  dismiss  us  unheard." 

"  Dismiss  us  unheanFW  .repeated  the  punctilious  Nor- 
man ;  "  even  this  poor  barbarous  king  can  scarcely  be  so 
strange  to  all  comely  and  gentle  usage,  as  to  put  such 
insult  on  Guillaume  Mallet  de  Graville.  But,"  added 
the  knight,  coloring,  "  I  forgot  that  he  is  not  advised  of 
my  name  and  land  ;  and,  indeed,  sith  thou  art  to  be 
spokesman,  I  marvel  why  Harold  should  have  prayed  my 
service  at  all,  at  the  risk  of  subjecting  a  Norman  knight 
to  affronts  contumelious." 

"  Peradventure,"  replied  Evan,  "peradventure  thou 
hast  something  to  whisper  apart  to  the  king,  which,  as 
stranger  and  warrior,  none  will  venture  to  question  ;  but 
which  from  me,  as  countryman  and  priest,  would  excite 
the  jealous  suspicions  of  those  around  him." 

"I  conceive  thee,"  said  De  Graville.  "And  see, 
spears  are  gleaming  down  the  path  ;  and,  per  pedes 
Domini,  yon  chief  with  the  mantle,  and  circlet  of  gold 


376  HAROLD. 

on  his  head,  is  the  cat-king  that  so  spitted  and  scratched 
ik  the  melee  last  night." 

"Heed  well  thy  tongue,"  said  Evan,  alarmed;  "no 
jests  with  the  leader  of  men." 

"  Knowest  thou,  good  monk,  that  a  faeete  and  mof;t 
gentil  Roman  (if  the  saintly  writer,  from  whom  I  take 
the  citation,  reports  aright — for  alas  !  I  know  not  where 
myself  tc  purchase,  or  to  steal,  one  copy  of  Horatius 
Flaccus)  hath  said,  ' Dulce  est  de sip ere  in  loco.''  It  is 
sweet  to  jest,  but  not  within  reach  of  claws,  whether  of 
kaisars  or  cats." 

Therewith  the  knight  drew  up.  his  spare  but  stately 
figure ;  and,  arranging  his  robe  with  grace  and  dignity, 
awaited  the  coming  chief. 

Down  the  pass,  one  by  one,  came  first  the  chiefs, 
privileged  by  birth  to  attend  the  king ;  and  each,  as  he 
reached  the  mouth  of  the  pass,  drew  on  the  upper  side, 
among  the  stones  of  the  rough  ground.  Then  a  banner, 
tattered  and  torn,  with  the  lion  ensign  that  the  Welch 
princes  had  substituted  for  the  old  national  dragon, 
which  the  Saxons  of  Wessex  had  appropriated  to  them- 
selves,* preceded  the  steps   of  the  king.     Behind  Lim 

*  The  Saxons  of  Wessex  seem  to  have  adopted  the  dragon  for 
their  ensign,  from  an  early  period.  It  was  probably  for  this  reason 
that  it  was  assumed  by  Edward  Ironsides,  as  the  hero  of  the  Saxons ; 
the  principality  of  Wessex  forming  the  most  important  portion  of 
the  pure  Saxon  race,  while  its  founder  was  the  ancestor  of  the 
imperial  house  of  Basileus  of  Britain.  The  dragon  seems  also  to 
have  been  a  Norman  ensign.  The  lions  or  leopards,  popularly 
assigned  to  the  Conqueror,  are  certainly  a  later  invention.     There 


HAROLD.  371 

came  his  falconer  and  bard,  and  the  rest  of  his  scanty 
household.  The  king  halted  in  the  pass,  a  few  steps 
from  the  Norman  knight ;  and  Mallet  de  Graville,  though 
accustomed  to  the  majestic  mien  of  Duke  William,  and 
the  practised  state  of  the  princes  of  France  and  Flan- 
ders, felt  an  involuntary  thrill  of  admiration  at  the  bear- 
ir.g  of  the  great  child  of  Nature  with  his  foot  on  his 
fathers'  soil. 

Small  and  slight  as  was  his  stature,  worn  and  ragged 
his  mantle  of  state,  there  was  that  in  the  erect  mien  and 
steady  eye  of  the  Cymrian  hero,  which  showed  one  con- 
scious of  authority,  and  potent  in  will ;  and  the  wave  of 
his  hand  to  the  knight  was  the  gesture  of  a  prince  on  his 
throne.  Nor,  indeed,  was  that  brave  and  ill-fated  chief 
without  some  irregular  gleams  of  mental  cultivation, 
which,  under  happier  auspices,  might  have  centered  into 
steadfast  light.  Though  the  learning  which  had  once  ex- 
isted in  Wales  (the  last  legacy  of  Rome)  had  long  since 
expired  in  broil  and  blood,  and  youths  no  longer  flocked 
to  the  colleges  of  Caerleon,  and  priests  no  longer  adorned 
the  casuistical  theology  of  the  age,  Gryfifyth  himself,  the 

is  no  appearance  of  them  on  the  banners  and  shields  of  the  Norman 
army  in  the  Bayeux  tnpestry.  Armorial  bearings  were  in  use 
amongst  the  Welch,  and  even  the  Saxons,  long  before  heraldry  was 
reduced  to  a  science  by  the  Franks  and  Normans  ;  and  the  dragon, 
which  is  supposed  by  many  critics  to  be  borrowed  from  the  east, 
through  the  Saracens,  certainly  existed  as  an  armorial  ensign  with 
the  Cymrians  before  they  could  have  had.  any  obligation  to  the 
gongs  and  legends  of  that  people. 

32* 


/ 

318  HAROLD. 

son  of  a  wise  and  famous  father,*  had  received  an  educa 
tion  beyond  the  average  of  Saxon  kings.  But,  intensely 
national,  his  mind  had  turned  from  all  other  literature, 
to  the  legends,  and  songs,  and  chronicles  of  his  land  ;  and 
if  he  is  the  best  scholar  who  best  understands  his  own 
tongue  and  its  treasures,  Gryffyth  was  the  most  erudite 
prince  of  his  age.  His  natural  talents,  for  war  especially, 
were  considerable  ;  and  judged  fairly — not  as  mated  with 
an  empty  treasury,  without  other  army  than  the  capri- 
cious will  of  his  subjects  afforded  ;  and,  amidst  his  bitter- 
est foes  in  the  jealous  chiefs  of  his  own  country,  against 
the  disciplined  force  and  comparative  civilization  of  the 
Saxon  —  but  as  compared  with  all  the  other  princes  of 
Wales,  in  warfare,  to  which  he  was  habituated,  and  in 
which  chances  were  even,  the  fallen  son  of  Llewellyn  had 
been  the  most  renowned  leader  that  Cymry  had  known 
since  the  death  of  the  great  Roderic. 

So  there  he  stood  ;  his  attendants  ghastly  with  famine, 
drawn  up  on  the  unequal  ground  ;  above,  on  the  heights, 
and  rising  from  the  stone  crags,  long  lines  of  spears  art- 
fully placed  ;  and,  watching  him  with  deathful  eyes,  some- 
what in  his  rear,  the  Traitor  Three. 

u  Speak,  father,  or  chief,"  said  the  Welch  king  in  his 
native  tongue  ;  "  what  would  Harold  the  earl,  of  Gryffyth 
the  king  ?  " 

Then  the  monk  took  up  the  word  and  spoke. 

*  "In  whose  time  the  earth  brought  forth  double,  and  there  was 
neither  beggar  nor  poor  man  from  the  North  to  the  South  Sea."  — 
Powell's  Hist,  of  Wales,  p.  83. 


HAROLD.  3H 

"  Health  to  Gryffyth-ap-Llewellyn,  his  chiefs  and  his 
people  !  Thus  saith  Harold,  King  Edward's  thegn  :  — 
By  land,  all  the  passes  are  watched  ;  by  sea,  all  the  waves 
are  our  own.  Our  swords  rest  in  our  sheaths  ;  but  Famine 
marches  each  hour  to  gride  and  to  slay.  Instead  of  sure 
death  from  the  hunger,  take  sure  life  from  the  foe.  Fiee 
pardon  to  all,  chiefs  and  people,  and  safe  return  to  their 
homes,  — save  Gryffyth  alone.  Let  him  come  forth,  not 
as  victim  and  outlaw,  not  with  bent  form  and  clasped 
hands,  but  as  chief  meeting  chief,  with  his  household  of 
state.  Harold  will  meet  him,  in  honor,  at  the  gates  of 
the  fort.  Let  Gryffyth  submit  to  King  Edward,  and  ride 
with  Harold  to  the  Court  of  the  Basileus.  Harold 
promises  him  life,  and  will  plead  for  his  pardon.  And 
though  the  peace  of  this  realm,  and  the  fortune  of  war, 
forbid  Harold  to  say,  '  Thou  shalt  yet  be  a  king  ; '  yet  thy 
crown,  son  of  Llewellyn,  shall  at  least  be  assured  in  the 
line  of  thy  fathers,  and  the  race  of  Cadwallader  shall  still 
reign  in  Cymry." 

The  monk  paused,  and  hope  and  joy  were  in  the  faces 
of  the  famished  chiefs  ;  while  two  of  the  Traitor  Three  \ 
suddenly  left  their  post,  and  sped  to  tell  the  message  to 
the  spearmen  and  multitudes  above.  Modred,  the  third 
conspirator,  laid  his  hand  on  his  hilt,  and  stole  near  to 
see  the  face  of  the  king  ;  the  face  of  the  king  was  dark 
and  angry,  as  a  midnight  of  storm. 

Then,  raising  the  cross  on  high,  Evan  resumed. 

"And  I,  though  of  the  people  of  Gwentland,  which  the 
arms  of  Gryffyth  have  wasted,  and  whose  prince  fell  be- 


380  HAROLD 

neath  GryfFyth's  sword  on  the  hearth  of  his  hall — I,  as 
God's  servant,  the  brother  of  all  I  behold,  and,  as  son  of 
the  soil,  mourning  over  the  slaughter  of  its  latest  defend- 
ers,—  I,  by  this  symbol  of  love  and  command,  which  I 
raise  to  the  heaven,  adjure  thee,  0  king,  to  give  ear  to 
the  mission  of  peacev —  to  cast  down  the  grim  pride  of 
earth.  Ard,  instead  of  the  crown  of  a  day,  fix  thy  hopes 
on  the  crown  everlasting.  For  much  shall  be  pardoned 
to  thee  in  thine  hour  of  pomp  and  of  conquest,  if  now 
thou  savest  from  doom  and  from  death  the  last  lives  over 
which  thou  art  lord." 

It  was  during  this  solemn  appeal  that  the  knight, 
marking  the  sign  announced  to  him,  and,  drawing  close 
to  Gryftyth,  pressed  the  ring  into  the  king's  hand,  and 
whispered,  — 

''Obey  by  this  pledge.  Thou  knowest  Harold  is  true, 
and  thy  head  is  sold  by  thine  own  people." 

The  king  cast  a  haggard  eye  at  the  speaker,  and  then 
at  the  ring,  over  which  his  hand  closed  with  a  convulsive 
spasm.  And,  at  that  dread  instant,  the  man  prevailed 
over  the  king ;  and  far  away  from  people  and  monk,  from 
adjuration  and  duty,  fled  his  heart  on  the  wings  of  the 
gtorm — fled  to  the  cold  wife  he  distrusted  ;  and  the  pledge 
that  should  assure  him  of  life,  seemed  as  a  love-token 
insulting  his  fall :  —  Amidst  all  the  roar  of  roused  pas- 
sions, loudest  of  all  was  the  hiss  of  the  jealous  fiend. 

As  the  monk  ceased,  the  thrill  of  the  audience  was 
perceptible,  and  a  deep  silence  was  followed  by  a  genera] 
murmur,  as  if  to  constrain  the  king. 


HAROLD.  381 

Then  the  pride  of  the  despot  chief  rose  up  to  second 
the  wrath  of  the  suspecting  man.  The  red  spot  flushed 
the  dark  cheek,  and  he  tossed  the  neglected  hair  from  his 
brow. 

He  made  one  stride  towards  the  monk,  and  said,  in  a 
voice  loud,  and  deep,  and  slow,  rolling  far  up  the  hill,  — 

"  Monk,  thou  hast  said  j  and  now  hear  the  reply  of  the 
son  of  Llewellyn,  the  true  heir  of  Roderic  the  Great,  who 
from  the  heights  of  Eryri  saw  all  the  lands  of  the  Cyin- 
rian  sleeping  under  the  dragon  of  Uther.i  King  was  I 
born,  and  king  will  I  die.  I  will  not  ride  by  the  side  of 
the  Saxon  to  the  feet  of  Edward,  the  son  of  the  spoiler. 
I  will  not,  to  purchase  base  life,  surrender  the  claim,  vain 
before  men  and  the  hoar,  but  solemn  before  God  and 
posterity  —  the  claim  of  my  line  and  my  people.  All 
Britain  is  ours — all  the  Island  of  Pines.  And  the  child- 
ren of  Hengist  are  traitors  and  rebels  —  not  the  heirs  of 
Ambrosius  and  Uther.  Say  to  Harold  the  Saxon,  Ye 
have  left  us  but  the  tomb  of  the  Druid  and  the  hills  of 
the  eagle  ;  but  freedom  and  royalty  are  ours,  in  life  and 
in  death — not  for  you  to  demand  them,  not  for  us  to  be- 
tray. Nor  fear  ye,  0  my  chiefs,  few,  but  unmatched  in 
glory  and  truth  ;  fear  not  ye  to  perish  by  the  hunger  thus 
denounced  as  our  doom,  on  these  heights  that  command 
the  fruits  of  our  own  fields  !  No,  die  we  may,  but  not 
mute  and  revengeless.  Go  back,  whispering  warrior ; 
go  back,  false  son  of  Cymry  —  and  tell  Harold  to  look 
well  to  his  walls  and  his  trenches.  We  will  vouchsafe 
him  grace  for  his  grace  —  we  will  not  take  him  by  sur- 


882  HAROLD. 

prise,  nor  under  cloud  of  the  night.  With  the  gleam  of 
ur  spears  and  the  clash  of  our  shields,  we  will  come  from 
the  hill ;  and,  famine-worn  as  he  deems  us,  hold  a  feast 
in  his  walls  which  the  eagles  of  Snowdon  spread  their 
pinions  to  share !  " 

"  Rash  man  and  unhappy  !  "  cried  the  monk  ;  "  what 
curse  drawest  thou  down  on  thy  head  !  Wilt  thou  be  the 
murtherer  of  thy  men,  in  strife  unavailing  and  vain  ? 
Heaven  holds  thee  guilty  of  all  the  blood  thou  shalt 
cause  to  be  shed." 

"Be  dumb!  —  hush  thy  screech,  lying  raven!"  ex- 
claimed Gryffyth,  his  eyes  darting  fire,  and  his  slight  form 
dilating.  "  Once,  priest  and  monk  went  before  us  to  in- 
spire, not  to  daunt ;  and  our  cry,  Allelulia  !  was  taught 
us  by  the  saints  of  the  Church,  on  the  day  when  Saxons, 
fierce  and  many  as  Harold's,  fell  on  the  field  of  Maes- 
Garmon.  No,  the  curse  is  on  the  head  of  the  invader, 
not  on  those  who  defend  hearth  and  altar.  Yea,  as  the 
song  to  the  bard,  the  curse  leaps  through  my  veins,  and 
rushes  forth  from  my  lips.  By  the  land  they  have 
ravaged  ;  by  the  gore  they  have  spilt ;  on  these  crags,  our 
last  refuge  ;  below  the  earn  on  yon  heights,  where  the 
Dead  stir  to  hear  me, — I  launch  the  curse  of  the  wronged 
and  the  doomed  on  the  children  of  Hengist !  They  in 
turn  shall  know  the  steel  of  the  stranger  —  their  crown 
shall  be  shivered  as  glass,  and  their  nobles  be  as  slaves 
in  the  land.  And  the  line  of  Hengist  and  Cerdic  shall 
be  rased  from  the  roll  of  empire.  And  the  ghosts  of  our 
fathers  shall  glide,  appeased,  over   the    grave   of  their 


HAROLD.  383 

nation.  But  we  —  we,  though  weak  in  the  body,  in  the 
bouI  shall  be  strong  to  the  last  I  The  ploughshare  may 
pass  over  our  cities,  but  the  soil  shall  be  trod  by  our 
steps,  and  our  deeds  keep  our  language  alive  in  the  songs 
of  our  bards.  Nor,  in  the  great  Judgment  Day,  shall 
any  race  but  the  race  of  Cymry  rise  from  their  graves 
in  this  corner  of  earth,  to  answer  for  the  sins  of  the 
brave  ! ?  * 

So  impressive  the  voice,  so  grand  the  brow,  and  sub- 
lime the  wild  gesture  of  the  king,  as  he  thus  spoke,  that 
not  only  the  monk  himself  was  awed  ;  not  only,  though 
he  understood  not  the  words,  did  the  Norman  knight 
bow  his  head,  as  a  child  when  the  lightning  he  fears  as 
by  instinct,  flashes  out  from  the  cloud,  —  but  even  the 
sullen  and  wide-spreading  discontent  at  work  among  most 
of  the  chiefs  was  arrested  for  a  moment.  But  the  spear- 
men and  multitude  above,  excited  by  the  tidings  of  safety 
to  life,  and  worn  out  by  repeated  defeat,  and  the  dread 

*  "  During  the  military  expeditions  made  in  our  days  against 
South  Wales,  an  old  Welchman  at  Pencadair,  who  had  faithfully 
adhered  to  him  (Henry  II.),  being  desired  to  give  his  opinion  about 
the  royal  army,  and  whether  he  thought  that  of  the  rebels  would 
make  resistance,  and  what  he  thought  would  be  the  final  event  of 
this  war,  replied:  'This  nation,  0  king,  may  now,  as  in  former 
times,  be  harassed,  and,  in  a  great  measure,  be  weakened  and  de- 
stroyed by  you  and  other  powers:  and  it  will  often  prevail  by  its 
laudable  exertions,  but  it  can  never  be  totally  subdued  by  the 
wrath  of  man,  unless  the  wrath  of  God  shall  concur.  Nor  do  I 
think  that  any  other  nation  than  this  of  Wales,  or  any  other  language 
[whatever  may  hereafter  come  to  pass),  shall  in  the  day  of  severe  ex- 
amination before  the  Supreme  Judge  answer  for  this  comer  of  ik* 
tarth!'"  —  Hoare's  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  vol.  i.  p.  361. 


384  HAROLD. 

fear  of  famine,  too  remote  to  hear  the  kh.g,  were  listening 
eagerly  to  the  insidious  addresses  of  the  two  stealthy  con- 
spirators, creeping  from  rank  to  rank  ;  and  already  they 
began  to  sway  and  move,  and  sweep  slowly  down  towards 
the  king. 

Recovering  his  surprise,  the  Norman  again  neared 
Gryffyth,  and  began  to  re-urge  his  mission  of  peace.  But 
the  chief  waved  him  back  sternly,  and  said  aloud,  though 
in  Saxon  :  — 

"  No  secrets  can  pass  between  Harold  and  me.  This 
much  alone,  take  thou  back  as  answer:  —  I  thank  the 
earl,  for  myself,  my  queen,  and  my  people.  Noble  have 
been  his  courtesies,  as  foe  ;  as  foe  I  thank  him — as  king, 
defy.  The  torque  he  hath  returned  to  my  hand,  he  shall 
see  again  ere  the  sun  set.  Messengers,  ye  are  answered. 
Withdraw,  and  speed  fast,  that  we  may  pass  not  your 
steps  on  the  road." 

The  monk  sighed,  and  cast  a  look  of  holy  compassion 
over  the  circle  ;  and  a  pleased  man  was  he  to  see  in  the 
faces  of  most  there,  that  the  king  was  alone  in  his  fierce 
defiance.  Then  lifting  again  the  rood,  he  turned  away, 
an  J  with  him  went  the  Norman. 

The  retirement  of  the  messengers  was  the  signal  for 
cne  burst  of  remonstrance  from  the  chiefs — the  signal  for 
the  voice  and  the  deeds  of  the  Fatal  Three.  Down  from 
the  heights  sprang  and  rushed  the  angry  and  turbulent 
multitudes ;  round  the  king  came  the  bard  and  the 
falconer,  and  some  faithful  few. 

The   great    uproar  of  many  voices  caused  the  monk 


HAROLD.  385 

and  the  knight  to  pause  abruptly  in  their  descent,  and 
turn  to  look  behind.  They  could  see  the  crowd  rushing 
down  from  the  higher  steeps  ;  but  on  the  spot  itself  which 
they  had  so  lately  left,  the  nature  of  the  ground  only  per- 
mitted a  confused  view  of  spear-points,  lifted  swords,  and 
heads  crowned  with  shaggy  locks,  swaying  to  and  fro. 

"  What  means  all  this  commotion  ?  "  asked  the  knight, 
with  his  hand  on  his  sword. 

"  Hist ! "  said  the  monk,  pale  as  ashes,  and  leaning  for 
support  upon  the  cross. 

Suddenly,  above  the  hubbub,  was  heard  the  voice  of 
the  king,  in  accents  of  menace  and  wrath,  singularly  dis- 
tinct and  clear ;  it  was  followed  by  a  moment's  silence  — 
a  moment's  silence  followed  by  the  clatter  of  arms,  a  yell, 
and  a  howl,  and  the  indescribable  shock  of  men. 

And  suddenly  again  was  heard  a  voice  that  seemed 
that  of  the  king,  but  no  longer  distinct  and  Hear  ! — was 
it  laugh  ?  —  w&a  it  grufcn  t 

All  was  hushed  ;  the  monk  was  on  his  knees  in  prayer  ; 
the  knight's  sword  was  bare  in  his  hand.  All  was  hushed 
—  and  the  spears  stood  still  in  the  air;  when  there  was 
again  a  cry,  as  multitudinous  but  less  savage  than  before. 
And  the  Welch  came  down  the  pass,  and  down  the  crags. 

The  knight  placed  his  back  to  a  rock.  "  They  have 
orders  to  murther  us,"  he  murmured  ;  "  but  woe  to  the 
fii^t  who  come  within  reach  of  my  sword  ! n 

Down  swarmed  the  Welchmen,  nearer  and  nearer  ;  and 
in  the  midst  of  them  three  chiefs — the  Fatal  Three.  And 
the  old  chief  bore  in  his  hand  a  pole  or  spear,  and  on  tne 

I.  —  33  z 


386  HAROLD. 

top  of  that  spear,  trickling  gore  step  by  step,  was  the 
trunkless  head  of  Gryflfyth  the  king. 

"  This/  said  the  old  chief,  as  he  drew  near,  "  this  is 
our  answer  to  Harold  the  earl.     We  will  go  with  ye." 

"  Food  !  food  !  "  cried  the  multitude. 

And  the  three  chiefs  (one  on  either  side  the  trunkless 
head  that  the  third  bore  aloft)  whispered,  "We  are 
avenged ! " 


1ND    OF    THE    FJBST    VOLUMB. 


HAKOLD 


VOL.  II. 


tV   - 


HAKOLD, 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  SAXON  KINGS. 
BOOK   EIGHTH. 

PATE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Some  days  after  the  tragical  event  with  which  the  last 
chapter  closed,  the  ships  of  the  Saxons  were  assembled 
in  the  wide  waters  of  Conway ;  and  on  the  small  fore- 
deck  of  the  stateliest  vessel,  stood  Harold,  bare-headed, 
before  Aldyth  the  widowed  queen.  For  the  faithful  bard 
had  fallen  by  the  side  of  his  lord ;  .  .  .  .  the  dark  pro- 
mise was  unfulfilled,  and  the  mangled  clay  of  the  jealous 
Gryffyth  slept  alone  in  the  narrow  bed.  A  chair  of  state, 
with  dossell  and  canopy,  was  set  for  the  daughter  of 
-Algar,  and  behind,  stood  maidens  of  Wales,  selected  in 
haste  for  her  attendants. 

But  Aldyth  had  not  seated  herself;  and,  side  by  side 
with  her  dead  lord's  great  victor,  thus  she  spoke:  — 
.*  "Woe  worth  the  day  and  the  hour  when  Aldyth  left 
1*  (6) 


6  HAROLD. 

the  hall  of  her  fathers,  and  the  land  of  her  birth  !  Her 
robe  of  a  queen  has  been  rent  and  torn  over  an  aching 
heart,  and  the  air  she  has  breathed  has  reeked  as  with 
blood.  I  go  forth,  widowed,  and  homeless,  and  lonely ; 
but  my  feet  shall  press  the  soil  of  my  sires,  and  my  lips 
draw  the  breath  which  came  sweet  and  pure  to  my  child- 
hood. And  thou,  0  Harold,  standest  beside  me,  like  the 
shape  of  my  own  youth,  and  the  dreams  of  old  come  back 
at  the  sound  of  thy  voice.  Fare  thee  well,  noble  heart, 
and  true  Saxon.  Thou  hast  twice  saved  the  child  of  thy 
foe — first  from  shame,  then  from  famine.  Thou  wouldst 
have  saved  my  dread  lord  from  open  force,  and  dark 
murder  ;  but  the  saints  were  wroth,  the  blood  of  my 
kinsfolk,  shed  by  his  hand,  called  for  vengeance,  and  the 
shrines  he  had  pillaged  and  burned  murmured  doom  from 
their  desolate  altars.  Peace  be  with  the  dead,  and  peace 
with  the  living !  I  shall  go  back  to  my  father  and 
brethren  ;  and  if  the  fame  and  life  of  child  and  sister  be 
dear  to  them,  their  swords  will  never  more  leave  their 
sheaths  against  Harold.  So  thy  hand,  and  God  guard 
thee  ! » 

Harold  raised  to  his  lips  the  hand  which  the  queen 
extended  to  him  ;  and  to  Aldyth  now  seemed  restored 
the  rare  beauty  of  her  youth  ;  as  pride  and  sorrow  gave 
her  the  charm  of  emotion,  which  love  and  duty  had  failed 
to  bestow. 

u  Life  and  health  to  thee,  noble  lady,"  said  the  earl 
11  Tell  thy  kindred  from  me,  that  for  thy  sake,  and  thy 
grandsire's,  I  would  fain  be  their  brother  and  friend ; 


HAROLD.  7 

were  they  but  united  with  me,  all  England  were  now  safe 
against  every  foe,  and  each  peril.  Thy  daughter  already 
awaits  thee  in  the  halls  of  Morcar ;  and  when  time  has 
scarred  the  wounds  of  the  past,  may  the  joys  re-bloom 
in  the  face  of  thy  child.     Farewell,  noble  Aldyth  ! " 

He  dropped  the  hand  he  had  held  till  then,  turned 
slowly  to  the  side  of  the  vessel,  and  re-entered  his  boat. 
As  he  was  rowed  back  to  shore,  the  horn  gave  the  signal 
for  raising  anchor,  and  the  ship  righting  itself,  moved 
majestically  through  the  midst  of  the  fleet.  But  Aldyth 
still  stood  erect,  and  her  eyes  followed  the  boat  that  bore 
away  the  secret  love  of  her  youth. 

As  Harold  reached  the  shore,  Tostig  and  the  Norman, 
who  had  been  conversing  amicably  together  on  the  beach, 
advanced  towards  the  earl. 

"  Brother,"  said  Tostig  smiling,  ff.it  were  easy  for  thee 
to  console  the  fair  widow,  and  bring  to  our  House  all  the 
force  of  East  Anglia  and  Mercia."  Harold's  face  slightly 
changed,  but  he  made  no  answer. 

"A  marvellous  fair  dame,"  said  the  Norman,  "  notwith- 
standing her  cheek  be  somewhat  pinched,  and  the  hue 
sunburnt.  And  I  wonder  not  that  the  poor  cat-king  kept 
her  so  close  to  his  side." 

"  Sir  Norman,"  said  the  earl,  hastening  to  change  the 
subject,  "the  war  is  now  over,  and,  for  long  years,  Wales 
will  leave  our  marches  in  peace. — This  eve  I  propose  to 
ride  nence  towards  London,  and  we  will  converse  by  the 
way." 

"  Go  you  so  soon  ? "  cried  the  knight,  surprised.  "Shall 


S  HAROLD. 

you  not  take  means  utterly  to  subjugate  this  troublesome 
race,  parcel  out  the  lands  among  your  thegns,  to  hold  as 
martial  fiefs  at  need,  build  towers  and  forts  on  the  heights, 
and  at  the  river-mouths  ?  —  where  a  site,  like  this,  for 
some  fair  castle  and  vawmure  ?  In  a  word,  do  you  Saxons 
merely  overrun,  and  neglect  to  hold  what  you  win  ?  " 

"  We  fight  in  self-defence,  not  for  conquest,  Sir  Nor- 
man. We  have  no  skill  in  building  castles  ;  and  I  pray 
you  not  to  hint  to  my  thegns  the  conceit  of  dividing  a 
land,  as  thieves  would  their  plunder.  King  Gryffyth  is 
dead,  and  his  brothers  will  reign  in  his  stead.  England 
has  guarded  her  realm,  and  chastised  the  aggressors. 
What  need  England  do  more  ?  We  are  not  like  our  first 
barbarous  fathers,  carving  out  homes  with  the  scythe  of 
their  saexes.  The  wave  settles  after  the  flood,  and  the 
races  of  men  after  lawless  convulsions." 

Tostig  smiled,  in  disdain,  at  the  knight,  who  mused  a 
little  over  the  strange  words  he  had  heard,  and  then 
silently  followed  the  earl  to  the  fort. 

But  when  Harold  gained  his  chamber,  he  found  there 
an  express,  arrived  in  haste  from  Chester,  with  the  news, 
that  Algar,  the  sole  enemy  and  single  rival  of  his  power, 
was  no  more.  Fever,  occasioned  by  neglected  wounds, 
had  stretched  him  impotent  on  a  bed  of  sickness,  and  his 
fierce  passions  had  aided  the  march  of  disease ;  the  rest- 
less and  profitless  race  was  run. 

The  first  emotion  which  these  tidings  called  forth,  was 
that  of  pain.  The  bold  sympathize  with  the  bold  ;  and 
in  great  hearts,  there  is  always  a  certain  friendship  for  a 


HAROLD.  S 

gallant  foe.  But  recovering  the  shock  of  that  first  im- 
pression, Harold  could  not  but  feel  that  England  was 
freed  from  its  most  dangerous  subject — himself  from  the 
only  obstacle  apparent  to  the  fulfilment  of  his  luminous 
career. 

"  Now,  then,  to  London, n  whispered  the  voice  of  his 
ambition.  "  Not  a  foe  rests  to  trouble  the  peace  of  that 
empire  which  thy  conquests,  0  Harold,  have  made  more 
secure  and  compact  than  ever  yet  has  been  the  realm  of 
the  Saxon  kings.  Thy  way  through  the"  country  that 
thou  hast  henceforth  delivered  from  the  fire  and  sword 
of  the  mountain  ravager,  will  be  one  march  of  triumph, 
like  a  Roman's  of  old ;  and  the  voice  of  the  people  will 
echo  the  hearts  of  the  army ;  those  hearts  are  thine  own. 
Yerily  Hilda  is  a  prophetess ;  and  when  Edward  rests 
with  the  saints,  from  what  English  heart  will  not  burst 
the  cry,  'Long  live  Harold  the  King?'" 


CHAPTER    II. 

The  Norman  rode  by  the  side  of  Harold,  in  the  rear 
of  the  victorious  armament.  The  ships  sailed  to  their 
havens,  and  Tostig  departed  to  his  northern  earldom. 

"And  now,"  said  Harold,  "  I  am  at  leisure  to  thank 
thee,  brave  Norman,  for  more  than  thine  aid  in  council 
and  war  —  at  leisure  now  to  turn  to  the  last  prayer  of 
Sweyr,  and  the  often-shed  tears  of  Gritha  my  mother,  for 


10  HAROLD. 

Wolnoth  the  exile.  Thou  seest  with  thine  own  eyes  that 
there  is  no  longer  pretext  or  plea  for  thy  count  to  detain 
these  hostages.  Thou  shalt  hear  from  Edward  himself 
that  he  no  longer  asks  sureties  for  the  faith  of  the  House 
of  Godwin  ;  and  I  cannot  think  that  Duke  William  would 
have  suffered  thee  to  bring  me  over  this  news  from  the 
dead  if  he  were  not  prepared  to  do  justice  to  the  living." 

"  Your  speech,  Earl  of  Wessex,  goes  near  to  the  truth. 
But,  to  speak  plainly  and  frankly,  I  think  William,  my 
lord,  hath  a  ke*en  desire  to  welcome  in  person  a  chief  so 
illustrious  as  Harold,  and  I  guess  that  he  keeps  the  host- 
ages to  make  thee  come  to  claim  them."  The  knight,  as 
he  spoke,  smiled  gaily ;  but  the  cunning  of  the  Norman 
gleamed  in  the  -quick  glance  Of  his  clear  hazel  eye. 

"Fain  must  I  feel  pride  at  such  wish,  if  you  flatter  me 
not,"  said  Harold ;  u  and  I  would  gladly  myself,  now  the 
land  is  in  peace,  and  my  presence  not  needful,  visit  a 
court  of  such  fame.  I  hear  high  praise  from  cheapman 
and  pilgrim  of  Count  William's  wise  care  for  barter  and 
trade,  and  might  learn  much  from  the  ports  of  the  Seine 
that  would  profit  the  marts  of  the  Thames.  Much,  too, 
I  hear  of  Count  William's  zeal  to  revive  the  learning  of 
the  Church,  aided  by  Lanfranc  the  Lombard  ;  much  I 
hear  of  the  pomp  of  his  buildings,  and  the  grace  of  his 
court.  All  this  would  I  cheerfully  cross  the  ocean  to 
see  ;  but  all  this  would  but  sadden  my  heart  if  I  returned 
without  Haco  and  Wolnoth." 

"  I  dare  not  speak  so  as  to  plight  faith  for  the  duke," 
said  the  Norman,  who,  though  sharp  to  deceive,  had  that 


HAROLD.  11 

rein  on  his  conscience  that  it  did  not  let  him  openly  lie ; 
"  but  this  I  do  know,  that  there  are  few  things  in  hii 
countdom  which  my  lord  would  not  give  to  clasp  the 
right  hand  of  Harold,  and  feel  assured  of  his  friendship." 

Though  wise  and  far-seeing,  Harold  was  not  suspicious  ; 
i — no  Englishman,  unless  it  were  Edward  himself,  knew 
the  secret  pretensions  of  William  to  the  English  throne ; 
and  he  answered  simply :  — 

"  It  were  well,  indeed,  both  for  Normandy  and  Eng- 
land, both  against  foes  and  for  trade,  to  be  allied  and 
well-liking.  I  will  think  over  your  words,  Sire  de  Gra- 
ville,  and  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  old  feuds  be  not  for- 
gotten, and  those  now  in  thy  court  be  the  last  hostages 
ever  kept  by  the  Norman  for  the  faith  of  the  Saxon." 

With  that  he  turned  the  discourse  ;  and  the  aspiring 
and  able  envoy,  exhilarated  by  the  hope  of  a  successful 
mission,  animated  the  way  by  remarks — alternately  lively 
and  shrewd  —  which  drew  the  brooding  earl  from  those 
musings  which  had  now  grown  habitual  to  a  mind  once 
clear  and  open  as  the  day. 

Harold  had  not  miscalculated  the  enthusiasm  his  vic- 
tories had  excited.  Where  he  passed,  all  the  towns  poured 
forth  their  populations  to  see  and  to  hail  him ;  and  on 
arriving  at  the  metropolis,  the  rejoicings  in  his  honor 
seemed  to  equal  those  which  had  greeted,  at  the  acces- 
sion  of  Edward,  the  restoration  of  the  line  of  Cerdic. 

According  to  the  barbarous  custom  of  the  age.  the 
head  of  the  unfortunate  sub-king,  and  the  prow  of  his 
special  war-ship,  had  been  sent  to  Edward  as  the  trophies 


12  HAROLD 

of  conquest :  but  Harold's  uniform  moderation  respected 
the  living.  The  race  of  Gryffyth  *  were  re-established 
on  the  tributary  throne  of  that  hero,  in  the  persons  of  his 
brothers,  Blethgent  and  Rigwatle,  "  and  they  swore 
oaths,"  says  the  graphic  old  chronicler,  M  and  delivered 
hostages  to  the  king  and  the  earl  that  they  would  be 
faithful  to  him  in  all  things,  and  be  everywhere  ready  for 
him,  by  water  and  by  land,  and  make  such  renders  from 
the  land  as  had  been  done  before  to  any  other  king." 
Not  long  after  this,  Mallet  de  Graville  returned  to  Nor- 
mandy, with  gifts  for  William  from  King  Edward,  and 
special  requests  from  that  prince,  as  well  as  from  the  earl, 
to  restore  the  hostages.  Bat  Mallet's  acuteness  readily 
perceived,  that  in  much,  Edward's  mind  had  been  alienated 
from  William.  It  was  clear,  that  the  duke's  marriage, 
and  the  pledges  that  had  crowned  the  union,  were  dis- 
tasteful to  the  asceticism  of  the  saint-king :  and  with 
Godwin's  death,  and  Tostig's  absence  from  the  court, 
seemed  to  have  expired  all  Edward's  bitterness  towards 
that  powerful  family  of  which  Harold  was  now  the  head. 
Still,  as  no  subject  out  of  the  house  of  Cerdic  had  ever 
yet  been  elected  to  the  Saxon  throne,  there  was  no  ap- 
prehension on  Mallet's  mind  that  in  Harold  was  the  true 
rival  to  William's  cherished  aspirations.  Though  Ed- 
ward the  Atheling  was  dead,  his  son  Edgar  lived,  the 
natural  heir  to  the  throne  ;  and  the  Norman  (whose  liege 
had  succeeded  to  the  duchy  at  the  age  of  eight)  was  not 

*  Gryffyth  left  a  son,  Caradoc ;  but  he  was  put  aside  as  a  minor, 
according  to  the  Saxon  customs. 


HAROLD.  IS 

sufficiently  cognizant  of  the  invariaole  custom  of  the 
Anglo-Saxons,  to  set  aside,  whether  for  kingdoms  or  for 
earldoms,  all  claimants  unfitted  for  rule  by  their  tender 
years.  He  could  indeed  perceive  that  the  young  Athel 
ing's  minority  was  in  favor  of  his  Norman  liege,  and 
would  render  him  but  a  weak  defender  of  the  realm,  and 
that  there  seemed  no  popular  attachment  to  the  infant 
orphan  of  the  Germanized  exile  :  his  name  was  never 
mentioned  at  the  court,  nor  had  Edward  acknowledged 
him  as  heir,  —  a  circumstance  which  he  interpreted  aus- 
piciously for  William.  Nevertheless,  it  was  clear  that, 
both  at  court  and  amongst  the  people,  the  Norman  in- 
fluence in  England  was  at  the  lowest  ebb ;  and  that  the 
only  man  who  could  restore  it,  and  realize  the  cherished 
dreams  of  his  grasping  lord,  was  Harold  the  all-powerful. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Trusting,  for  the  time,  to  the  success  of  Edward's 
urgent  demand  for  the  release  of  his  kinsmen,  as  well  as 
his  own,  Harold  was  now  detained  at  the  court  by  all 
those  arrears  of  business  which  had  accumulated  fast 
under  the  inert  hands  of  the  monk-king  during  the  pro- 
longed campaigns  against  the  Welch  ;  but  he  had  leisure 
at  least  for  frequent  visits  to  the  old  Roman  house  ;  and 
those  visits  were  not  more  grateful  to  his  love  than  to  the 
harder  and  more  engrossing  passion  which  divided  his 
heart. 

II.— 2 


U  HAROLD. 

The  nearer  he  grew  to  the  dazzling  object,  to  the  pos- 
session of  which  Fate  seemed  to  have  shaped  all  circum- 
stances, the  more  he  felt  the  charm  of  those  mystic  in- 
fluences which  his  colder  reason  had  disdained.  He  who 
is  ambitious  of  things  afar,  and  uncertain,  passes  at  once 
into  the  Poet-Land  of  Imagination  ;  to  aspire  and  to 
imagine  are  yearnings  twin-born. 

When  in  his  fresh  youth  and  his  calm  lofty  manhood, 
Harold  saw  action,  how  adventurous  soever,  limited  to 
the  barriers  of  noble  duty ;  when  he  lived  but  for  his 
country,  all  spread  clear  before  his  vision  in  the  sunlight 
of  day ;  but  as  the  barriers  receded,  while  the  horizon 
extended,  his  eye  left  the  Certain  to  rest  on  the  Yague. 
As  self,  though  still  half  concealed  from  his  conscienQe, 
gradually  assumed  the  wide  space  love  of  country  had 
filled,  the  maze  of  delusion  commenced  ;  he  was  to  shape 
fate  out  of  circumstance,  —  no  longer  defy  fate  through 
virtue  ;  and  thus  Hilda  became  to  him  as  a  voice  that 
answered  the  questions  of  his  own  restless  heart.  He 
needed  encouragement  from  the  Unknown  to  sanction 
his  desires  and  confirm  his  ends.  But  Edith,  rejoicing  in 
the  fair  fame  of  her  betrothed,  and  content  in  the  pure 
rapture  of  beholding  him  again,  reposed  in  the  divine 
credulity  of  the  happy  hour  ;  she  marked  not,  in  Harold's 
visits,  that,  on  entrance,  the  earl's  eye  sought  first  the 
stern  face  of  the  Yala — she  wondered  not  why  those  two 
conversed  in  whispers  together,  or  stood  so  often  at 
moonlight  by  the  Runic  grave.  Alone,  of  all  woman- 
kind, she  felt  that  Harold  loved  her,— that  that  love  had 


HAROLD.  15 

braved  time,  absence,  change,  and  hope  deferred  ;  — and 
ghe  knew  not  that  what  love  has  most  to  dread  in  the 
wild  heart  of  aspiring  man,  is  not  persons,  but  things, — 
is  not  things,  but  their  symbols. 

So  weeks  and  months  rolled  on,  and  Duke  William  re- 
turned no  answer  to  the  demands  for  his  hostages.  And 
Harold's  heart  smote  him,  that  he  neglected  his  brother's 
prayer  and  his  mother's  accusing  tears. 

Now  Githa,  since  the  death  of  her  husband,  had  lived 
in  seclusion  and  apart  from  town  ;  and  one  day  Harold 
was  surprised  by  her  unexpected  arrival  at  the  large  tim- 
bered house  in  London,  which  had  passed  to  his  posses- 
sion. As  she  abruptly  entered  the  room  in  which  he  sate, 
he  sprang  forward  to  welcome  and  embrace  her  ;  but  she 
waved  him  back  with  a  grave  and  mournful  gesture,  and, 
sinking  on  one  knee,  she  said  thus  :  — 

"  See,  the  mother  is  a  suppliant  to  the  son  for  the  son. 
No,  Harold,  no  —  I  will  not  rise  till  thou  hast  heard  me. 
Four  years,  long  and  lonely,  have  I  lingered  and  pined, 
—  long  years  !  Will  my  boy  know  his  mother  again? 
Thou  hast  said  to  me,  '  Wait  till  the  messenger  returns.' 
I  have  waited.  Thou  hast  said,  '  This  time  the  count 
cannot  resist  the  demand  of  the  king.'  I  bowed  my  head 
and  submitted  to  thee  as  I  had  done  to  Godwin  my  lord. 
And  I  have  not  till  now  claimed  thy  promise  ;  for  I  allowed 
thy  country,  thy  king,  and  thy  fame  to  have  claims  more 
strong  than  a  mother.  Now  I  tarry  no  more;  now  no 
more  will  I  be  amused  and  deceived.  Thine  hours  are 
thine  own  —  free  thy  coming  and  thy  going.     Harold,  I 


16  HAROLD. 

claim  thine  oath.  Harold,  I  touch  thy  right  hand.  Ha« 
rold,  I  remind  thee  of  thy  troth  and  thy  plight,  to  cross 
the  seas  thyself,  and  restore  the  child  to  the  mother." 

"  Oh,  rise,  rise  ! "  exclaimed  Harold,  deeply  moved. 
"  Patient  hast  thou  been,  O  my  mother,  and  now  I  will 
linger  no  more,  nor  hearken  to  other  voice  than  your 
own.  I  will  seek  the  king  this  day,  and  ask  his  leave  to 
cross  the  sea  to  Duke  William." 

Then  Githa  rose,  and  fell  on  the  earl's  breast  weeping. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

It  so  chanced,  while  this  interview  took  place  between 
Githa  and  the  earl,  that  Gurth,  hawking  in  the  wood- 
lands round  Hilda's  house,  turned  aside  to  visit  his 
Danish  kinswoman.  The  prophetess  was  absent,  but  he 
was  told  that  Edith  was  within  ;  and  Gurth,  about  to  be 
united  to  a  maiden  who  had  long  won  his  noble  affec- 
tions, cherished  a  brother's  love  for  his  brother's  fair 
betrothed.  He  entered  the  gyncecium,  and  there  still,  as 
when  we  were  first  made  present  in  that  chamber,  sate 
the  maids,  employed  on  a  work  more  brilliant  to  the  eye, 
and  more  pleasing  to  the  labor,  than  that  which  had  then 
tasked  their  active  hands.  They  were  broidering  into  a 
tissue  of  the  purest  gold  the  effigy  of  a  fighting  warrior, 
designed  by  Hilda  for  the  banner  of  Earl  Harold  ;  and, 
removed  from  the  awe  of  their  mistress,  as  they  worked, 


HAROLD.  it 

their  tongues  sang  gaily,  and  it  was  in  the  midst  of  song 
and  laughter  that  the  fair  young  Saxon  lord  entered  the 
chamber.  The  babble  and  the  mirth  ceased  at  his  en- 
trance ;  each  voice  was  stilled,  each  eye  cast  down  de- 
murely. Edith  was  not  amongst  them,  and,  in  answer  to 
his  inquiry,  the  eldest  of  the  maidens  pointed  towards 
the  peristyle  without  the  house. 

The  winning  and  kindly  thegn  paused  a  few  moments, 
to  admire  the  tissue  and  commend  the  work,  and  then 
sought  the  peristyle. 

Near  the  water-spring  that  gushed  free  and  bright 
through  the  Roman  fountain,  he  found  Edith,  seated  in 
an  attitude  of  deep  thought  and  gloomy  dejection.  She 
started  as  he  approached,  and,  springing  forward  to  meet 
him,  exclaimed  :  — 

"  0  Gurth,  Heaven  hath  sent  thee  to  me,  I  know  well, 
though  I  cannot  explain  to  thee  why,  for  I  cannot  ex- 
plain it  to  myself;  but  know  I  do,  by  the  mysterious 
bodements  of  my  own  soul,  that  some  great  danger  is  at 
this  moment  encircling  thy  brother  Harold.  Go  to  him, 
I  pray,  I  implore  thee,  forthwith  ;  and  let  thy  clear  sense 
and  warm  heart  be  by  his  side." 

"  I  will  go  instantly,"  said  Gurth,  startled.  "  But  do 
not  suffer,  I  adjure  thee,  sweet  kinswoman,  the  supersti- 
tion that  wraps  this  place,  as  a  mist  wraps  a  marsh,  to 
infec ;  thy  pure  spirit.  In  my  early  youth  I  submitted  to 
the  influence  of  Hilda  ;  I  became  man,  and  outgrew  it. 
Much,  secretly,  has  it  grieved  me  of  late,  to  see  that  our 
kinswoman's  Danish  lore  has  brought  even  the  strong 
2*  2a 


18  HAROLD. 

heart  cf  Harold  under  its  spell ;  and  where  once  he  only 
spoke  of  duty,  I  now  hear  him  speak  of  fate." 

"Alas!  alas  I"  answered  Edith,  wringing  her  hands: 
"  when  the  bird  hides  its  head  in  the  brake,  doth  it  shut 
out  the  track  of  the  hound  ?  Can  we  baffle  fate  by  re- 
fusing to  heed  its  approaches  ?  But  we  waste  precious 
moments.  Go,  Gurth,  dear  Gurth  !  Heavier  and  darker, 
while  we  speak,  gathers  the  cloud  on  my  heart." 

Gurth  said  no  more,  but  hastened  to  remount  his  steed  ; 
and  Edith  remained  alone  by  the  Roman  fountain,  mo- 
tionless and  sad,  as  if  the  Nymph  of  the  old  Religion 
stood  there  to  see  the  lessening  stream  well  away  from 
ihe  shattered  stone,  and  know  that  the  life  of  the  nymph 
was  measured  by  the  ebb  of  the  stream. 

Gurth  arrived  in  London  just  as  Harold  was  taking 
boat  for  the  palace  of  Westminster,  to  seek  the  king ; 
and  after  interchanging  a  hurried  embrace  with  his  mo- 
ther, he  accompanied  Harold  to  the  palace,  and  learned 
his  errand  by  the  way.  While  Harold  spoke,  he  did  not 
foresee  any  danger  to  be  incurred  by  a  friendly  visit  to 
the  Norman  gourt ;  and  the  interval  that  elapsed  between 
Harold's  communication  and  their  entrance  into  the 
king's  chamber,  allowed  no  time  for  mature  and  careful 
reflection. 

Edward,  on  wnom  years  and  infirmity  had  increased 
of  late  with  rapid  ravage,  heard  Harold's  request  with  a 
grave  and  deep  attention,  which  he  seldom  vouchsafed  to 
earthly  affairs.  And  he  remained  long  silent  after  his 
brother-in-law  had  finished  ;  so  long  silent,  that  the  earl, 


HAROLD.  ltf 

at  first,  deemed  that  lie  was  absorbed  in  one  of  those 
mystic  and  abstracted  reveries,  in  which,  more  and  more 
as  he  grew  nearer  to  the  borders  of  the  World  Unseen, 
Edward  so  strangely  indulged.  But,  looking  more  close, 
both  he  and  Gurth  were  struck  by  the  evident  dismay  on 
the  king's  face,  while  the  collected  light  of  Edward's  cold 
eye  showed  that  his  mind  was  awake  to  the  human  world. 
In  truth,  it  is  probable  that  Edward,  at  that  moment, 
vas  recalling  rash  hints,  if  not  promises,  to  his  rapacious 
cousin  of  Normandy,  made  during  his  exile.  And  sensi- 
ble of  his  own  declining  health,  and  the  tender  years  of 
the  young  Edgar,  he  might  be  musing  over  the  terrible 
pretender  to  the  English  throne,  whose  claims  his  earlier 
indiscretion  might  seem  to  sanction.  Whatever  his 
thoughts,  they  were  dark  and  sinister,  as  at  length  he 
said,  slowly  — 

"  Is  thine  oath  indeed  given  to  thy  mother,  and  doth 
she  keep  thee  to  it  ?  " 

"  Both,  O  king,"  answered  Harold,  briefly. 

"  Then  I  can  gainsay  thee  not.  And  thou,  Harold, 
art  a  man  of  this  living  world ;  thou  playest  here  the 
part  of  a  centurion  ;  thou  sayest,  '  Come/  and  men  come 
—  'Go,'  and  men  move  at  thy  will.  Therefore  thou 
mayest  well  judge  for  thyself.  I  gainsay  thee  not,  nor 
interfere  between  man  and  his  vow.  But  think  not," 
continued  the  king,  in  a  more  solemn  voice,  and  with 
increasing  emotion,  "  think  not  that  I  will  charge  my 
soul  that  I  counselled  or  encouraged  this  errand.     Yea, 


20  HAROLD. 

I  foresee  that  thy  journey  will  lead  but  to  great  evil  to 
England,  and  sore  grief  or  dire  loss  to  thee."* 

"  How  so,  dear  lord  and  king  ?  "  said  Harold,  startled 
by  Edward's  unwonted  earnestness,  though  deeming  it 
but  one  of  the  visionary  chimeras  habitual  to  the  saint. 
"  How  so  ?  William  thy  cousin  hath  ever  borne  the 
name  of  one  fair  to  friend,  though  fierce  to  foe.  And 
foul  indeed  his  dishonor,  if  he  could  meditate  harm  to  a 
man  trusting  his  faith,  and  sheltered  by  his  own  roof- 
tree." 

"  Harold,  Harold,"  said  Edward,  impatiently,  "I  know 
William  of  old.  Nor  is  he  so  simple  of  mind,  that  he 
will  cede  aught  for  thy  pleasure,  or  even  to  my  will,  unless 
it  bring  some  gain  to  himself. f  I  say  no  more.  —  Thou 
art  cautioned,  and  I  leave  the  rest  to  Heaven." 

It  is  the  misfortune  of  men  little  famous  for  worldly 
lore,  that  on  those  few  occasions  when,  in  that  sagacity 
caused  by  their  very  freedom  from  the  strife  and  passion 
of  those  around,  they  seem  almost  prophetically  inspired 
—  it  is  their  misfortune  to  lack  the  power  of  conveying 
to  others  their  own  convictions ;  they  may  divine,  but 
they  cannot  reason  ;  and  Harold  could  detect  nothing  to 
deter  his  purpose,  in  a  vague  fear,  based  on  no  other 
argument  than  as  vague  a  perception  of  the  duke's 
general  character.  But  Gurth,  listening  less  to  his  reason 
than  his  devoted  love  for  his  brother,  took  alarm,  and 
6aid,  after  a  pause  : 

*  Bromton  Chron. :  Knyghton,  Walsingham,  Hoveden,  &c. 
■J*  Bromton,  Knyghton,  &c. 


HAROLD.  21 

"  Thinkest  thou,  good  my  king,  that  the  same  danger 
were  incurred  if  Gurth,  instead  of  Harold,  crossed  the 
seas  to  demand  the  hostages?" 

"  No,"  said  Edward,  eagerly,  "  and  so  would  I  counsel. 
William  would  not  have  the  same  objects  to  gain  in 
practising  his  worldly  guile  upon  thee.  "  No  ;  methinks 
that  were  the  prudent  course." 

"And  the  ignoble  one  for  Harold,"  said  the  elder 
brother,  almost  indignantly.  "  Howbeit,  I  thank  thee 
gratefully,  dear  king,  for  thy  affectionate  heed  and  care ; 
and  so  the  saints  guard  thee  ! " 

On  leaving  the  king,  a  warm  discussion  between  the 
brothers  took  place ;  but  Gurth's  arguments  were  stronger 
than  those  of  Harold,  and  the  earl  was  driven  to  rest  his 
persistence  on  his  own  special  pledge  to  Githa.  As  soon, 
however,  as  they  had  gained  their  home,  that  plea  was 
taken  from  him ;  for  the  moment  Gurth  related  to  his 
mother  Edward's  fears  and  cautions,  she,  ever  mindful 
of  Godwin's  preference  for  the  earl,  and  his  last  com- 
mands to  her,  hastened  to  release  Harold  from  his 
pledge ;  and  to  implore  him  at  least  to  suffer  Gurth  to 
be  his  substitute  to  the  Norman  court.  "Listen  dis- 
passionately," said  Gurth ;  "  rely  upon  it  that  Edward 
has  reasons  for  his  fears,  more  rational  4than  those  he  has 
given  to  us  He  knows  William  from  his  youth  upward, 
and  hath  loved  him  too  well  to  hint  doubts  of  his  good 
faith  without  just  foundation.  Are  there  no  reasons  why 
danger  from  William  should  be  special  against  thyself9 
While  the  Normans  abounded  in  the  court,  there  were 


22  HAROLD. 

rumors  that  the  duke  had  some  designs  on  England, 
which  Edward's  preference  seemed  to  sanction :  such 
designs  now,  in  the  altered  state  of  England,  wrere  absurd 
■ — too  frantic  for  a  prince  of  William's  reputed  wisdom 
to  entertain  ;  yet,  he  may  not  unnaturally  seek  to  regain 
the  former  Norman  influence  in  these  realms.  He  knows 
that  in  you  he  receives  the  most  powerful  man  in 
England  ;  that  your  detention  alone  would  convulse  the 
country  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other ;  and  enable  him, 
perhaps,  to  extort  from  Edward  some  measures  dishonor- 
able to  us  all ;  but  against  me,  he  can  harbor  no  ill 
design  —  my  detention  would  avail  him  nothing.  And, 
in  truth,  if  Harold  be  safe  in  England,  Gurth  must  be 
safe  in  Rouen.  Thy  presence  here  at  the  head  of  our 
armies  guarantees  me  from  wrong.  But  reverse  the  case, 
and  with  Gurth  in  England,  is  Harold  safe  in  Rouen  ? 
I,  but  a  simple  soldier,  and  homely  lord,  with  slight  in- 
fluence over  Edward,  no  command  in  the  country,  and 
little  practised  of  speech  in  the  stormy  Witan  —  I  am 
just  so  great  that  William  dare  not  harm  me,  but  not  so 
great  that  he  should  even  wish  to  harm  me." 

f  He  detains  our  kinsmen,  why  not  thee  ?  "  said  Harold. 

"  Because  with  our  kinsmen  he  has  at  least  the  pretext 
that  they  were  pledged  as  hostages ;  because  I  go  simply 
as  guest  and  envoy.  No,  to  me  danger  cannot  come  :  be 
ruled,  dear  Harold." 

"Be  ruled,  0  my  son,"  cried  Githa,  clasping  the  earl's 
knees,  "  and  do  not  let  me  dread,  in  the  depth  of  the 


23 

night,  to  see  the  shade  of  Godwin,  and  hear  his  voice 
say,  'Woman,  where  is  Harold  ?" 

It  was  impossible  for  the  earl's  strong  understanding 
to  resist  the  arguments  addressed  to  it ;  and,  to  say  truth, 
he  had  been  more  disturbed  than  he  liked  to  confess,  by 
Edward's  sinister  forewarnings  ;  yet,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  were  reasons  againU  his  acquiescence  in  Gurth's 
proposal.  The  primary,  and,  to  do  him  justice,  the 
strongest,  was  in  his  native  courage  and  his  generous 
pride.  Should  he,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  shrink 
from  a  peril  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty — a  peril,  too,  so 
uncertain  and  vague  ?  Should  he  suffer  Gurth  to  fulfil 
the  pledge  he  himself  had  taken  ?  And  granting  even 
that  Gurth  were  safe  from  whatever  danger  he  individu- 
ally might  incur,  did  it  become  him  to  accept  the  proxy  ? 
Would  Gurth's  voice,  too,  be  as  potent  as  his  own  in 
effecting  the  return  of  the  hostages  ? 

The  next  reasons  that  swayed  him  were  those  he  could 
not  avow.  In  clearing  his  way  to  the  English  throne,  it 
would  be  of  no  mean  importance  to  secure  the  friendship 
of  the  Norman  duke,  and  the  Norman  acquiescence  in  his 
pretensions ;  it  would  be  of  infinite  service  to  remove 
those  prepossessions  against  his  House  which  were  still 
rife  with  the  Normans,  who  retained  a  bitter  remembrance 
of  their  countrymen  decimated,*  it  was  said,  with  the 

*  The  word  "decimated"  is  the  one  generally  applied  by  the 
historians  to  the  massacre  in  question ;  and  it  is  therefore  retained 
here ;  but  it  is  not  correctly  applied  :  for  that  butchery  was  perpe- 
trated, not  upon  one  out  of  ten,  but  nine  out  of  ten. 


24  HAROLD, 

concurrence  if  not  at  the  order  of  Godwin,  when  they  ac 
companied  the  ill-fated  Alfred  to  the  English  shore,  and 
who  were  yet  sore  with  their  old   expulsion   from   the 
English  court  at  the  return  of  his  father  and  himself. 

Though  it  could  not  enter  into  his  head  that  William, 
possessing  no  party  in  England,  could  himself  aspire  to 
the  English  crown,  yet  at  Edward's  death,  there  might  be 
pretenders  whom  the  Norman  arms  could  find  ready 
excuse  to  sanction.  There  was  the  boy  Atheling,  on  the 
one  side ;  there  was  the  valiant  Norwegian  King  Har- 
drada  on  the  other,  who  might  revive  the  claims  of  his 
predecessor  Magnus  as  heir  to  the  rights  of  Canute.  So 
near  and  so  formidable  a  neighbor  as  the  count  of  the 
Normans,  every  object  of  policy  led  him  to  propitiate ; 
and  Gurth,  with  his  unbending  hate  of  all  that  was 
Norman,  was  not,  at  least,  the  most  politic  envoy  he 
could  select  for  that  end.  Add  to  this,  that  despite  their 
present  reconciliation,  Harold  could  never  long  count 
upon  amity  with  Tostig ;  and  Tostig's  connection  with 
William,  through  their  marriages  into  the  House  of 
Baldwin,  was  full  of  danger  to  a  new  throne,  to  which 
Tostig  would  probably  be  the  most  turbulent  subject ; 
the  influence  of  this  connection  how  desirable  to  counter* 
act!* 

*  The  above  reasons  for  Harold's  memorable  expedition  are 
sketched  at  this  length,  because  they  suggest  the  most  probable 
motives  which  induced  it,  and  furnish,  in  no  rash  and  inconsiderate 
policy,  that  key  to  his  visit,  which  is  not  to  be  found  in  chronicler 
or  historian 


HAROLD.  25 

Nor  eould  Harold,  who,  as  patriot  and  statesman,  felt 
deeply  the  necessity  of  reform  and  regeneration  in  the 
decayed  edifice  of  the  English  monarchy,  willingly  lose 
an  occasion  to  witness  all  that  William  had  done  to  raise 
so  high  in  renown  and  civilization,  in  martial  fame  and 
commercial  prosperity,  that  petty  duchy,  which  he  had 
placed  on  a  level  with  the  kingdom  of  the  Teuton  and  the 
Frank.  Lastly,  the  Normans  were  the  special  darlings 
of  the  Roman  church.  William  had  obtained  the  dis- 
pensation to  his  own  marriage  with  Matilda ;  and  might 
not  the  Norman  influence,  duly  conciliated,  back  the 
prayer  which  Harold  trusted  one  day  to  address  to  the 
pontiff,  and  secure  to  him  the  hallowed  blessing,  without 
which  ambition  lost  its  charm,  and  even  a  throne  its 
splendor  ? 

All  these  considerations,  therefore,  urged  the  earl  to 
persist  in  his  original  purpose  ;  but  a  warning  voice  in 
his  heart,  more  powerful  than  all,  sided  with  the  prayer 
of  Githa,  and  the  arguments  of  Gurth.  In  this  state  of 
irresolution,  Gurth  said  seasonably,  — 

"Bethink  thee,  Harold,  if  menaced  but  with  peril  to 
thyself,  thou  wouldst  have  a  brave  man's  right  to  resist 
us  ;  but  it  was  of  'great  evil  to  England i1  that  Edward 
spoke,  and  thy  reflection  must  tell  thee,  that  in  this 
crisis  of  our  country,  danger  to  thee  is  evil  to  England 
—  evil  to  England  thou  hast  no  right  to  incur." 

"Dear  mother,  and  generous  Gurth,"  said  Harold, 
then  joining  the  two  in  one  embrace,  "ye  have  well-nigh 
conquered.     Give  me  but  two  days  to  ponder  well,  and 

II.— 3 


26  HAROLD. 

be  assured  that  I  will  not  decide  from  the  rash  prompt- 
ings of  an  ill-considered  judgment. " 

Farther  than  this  they  could  not  then  move  the  earl ; 
but  Gurth  was  pleased  shortly  afterwards  to  see  him  de- 
part to  Edith,  whose  fears,  from  whatever  source  they 
sprang,  would,  he  was  certain,  come  in  aid  of  his  own 
,  pleadings. 

But  as  the  earl  rode  alone  towards  the  once  stately 
home  of  the  perished  Roman,  and  entered  at  twilight  the 
darkening  forest-land,  his  thoughts  were  less  on  Edith 
than  on  the  Yala,  with  whom  his  ambition  had  more  and 
more  connected  his  soul.  Perplexed  by  his  doubts,  and 
left  dim  in  the  waning  lights  of  human  reason,  never 
more  involuntarily  did  he  fly  to  some  guide  to  interpret 
the  future,  and  decide  his  path. 

As  if  fate  itself  responded  to  the  cry  of  his  heart,  he 
suddenly  came  in  sight  of  Hilda  herself,  gathering  leaves 
from  elm  and  ash  amidst  the  woodland. 

He  sprang  from  his  horse  and  approached  her. 

"  Hilda,''  said  he,  in  a  low  but  firm  voice,  "thou  hast 
often  told  me  that  the  dead  can  advise  the  living.  Raise 
thou  the  Sein-laeca  of  the  hero  of  old  —  raise  the  Ghost, 
which  mine  eye,  or  my  fancy,  beheld  before,  vast  and  dim 
by  the  silent  bautastein,  and  I  will  stand  by  thy  side. 
Fain  would  I  know  if  thou  hast  deceived  me  and  thyself; 
or  if,  in  truth,  to  man's  guidance  Heaven  doth  vouchsafe 
saga  ani  rede  from  those  who  have  passed  into  the  secret 
shores  of  eternity." 

"  The  dead,"  answered  Hilda,  "  will  not  reveal  them* 


HAROLD.  21 

selves  to  eyes  uninitiate,  save  at  their  own  will,  uncom 
pelled  by  charm  and  rune.  To  me  their  forms  can  appear 
distinct  through  the  airy  flame  ;  to  me,  duly  prepared  by 
spells  that  purge  the  eye  of  the  spirit,  and  loosen  the 
walls  of  the  flesh.  I  cannot  say  that  what  I  see  in  the 
trance  and  the  travail  of  my  soul,  thou  also  wilt  behold  ; 
for  even  when  the  vision  hath  passed  from  my  sight,  and 
the  voice  from  my  ear,  only  memories,  confused  and  dim, 
of  what  I  saw  and  heard,  remain  to  guide  the  waking 
and  common  life.  But  thou  shalt  stand  by  my  side  while 
I  invoke  the  phantom,  and  hear  and  interpret  the  words 
which  rush  from  my  lips,  and  the  runes  that  take  meaning 
from  the  sparks  of  the  charmed  fire.  I  knew  ere  thou 
earnest,  by  the  darkness  and  trouble  of  Edith's  soul,  that 
some  shade  from  the  ash-tree  of  life  had  fallen  upon 
thine." 

Then  Harold  related  what  had  passed,  and  placed 
before  Hilda  the  doubts  that  beset  him. 

The  prophetess  listened  with  earnest  attention ;  but 
her  mind,  when  not  under  its  most  mystic  influences, 
being  strongly  biassed  by  its  natural  courage  and  ambi- 
tion, she  saw  at  a  glance  all  the  advantages  towards 
securing  the  throne  predestined  to  Harold,  which  might 
be  effected  by  his  visit  to  the  Norman  court,  and  she  held 
in  too  great  disdain  both  the  worldly  sense  and  the  mystic 
reveries  of  the  monkish  king  (for  the  believer  in  Odin 
was  naturally  incredulous  of  the  visitation  of  the  Christian 
saints),  to  attach  much  weight  to  his  dreary  predictions. 

The  short  reply  she  made  was  therefore  not  calculated 


28  HAROLD. 

to  deter  Harold  from  the  expedition  in  dispute  j  but  she 
deferred  till  the  following  night,  and  to  wisdom  more 
dread  than  her  own,  the  counsels  that  should  sway  his 
decision. 

With  a  strange  satisfaction  at  the  thought  that  he 
should,  at  least,  test  personally  the  reality  of  those  as- 
sumptions of  preternatural  power  which  had  of  late 
colored  his  resolves  and  qppressed  his  heart,  Harold  then 
took  leave  of  the  Yala,  who  returned  mechanically  to  her 
employment ;  and,  leading  his  horse  by  the  rein,  slowly 
continued  his  musing  way  towards  the  green  knoll  and 
its  heathen  ruins.  But  ere  he  gained  the  hillock,  and 
while  his  thoughtful  eyes  were  bent  on  the  ground,  he 
felt  his  arm  seized  tenderly — turned — and  beheld  Edith's 
face  full  of  unutterable  and  anxious  love. 

With  that  love,  indeed,  there  was  blended  so  much 
wistfulness,  so  much  fear,  that  Harold  exclaimed, — 

"  Soul  of  my  soul,  what  hath  chanced  ?  what  affects 
thee  thus  ?  " 

"  Hath  no  danger  befallen  thee  ?  n  asked  Edith,  falter- 
ingly,  and  gazing  on  his  face  with  wistful,  searching  eyes. 

"  Danger  !  none,  sweet  trembler,"  answered  the  earl, 
evasively. 

Edith  dropped  her  eager  looks,  and  clinging  to  hia 
arm,  drew  him  on  silently  into  the  forest  land.  She  paused 
at  last,  where  the  old  fantastic  trees  shut  out  the  view  of 
the  ancient  ruins  ;  and  when,  looking  round,  she  saw  not 
those  grey  gigantic  shafts  which  mortal  hand  seemed 
never  to  have  piled  together,  she  breathed  more  freely. 


HAROLD.  29 

"  Speak  to  me,"  then  said  Harold,  bending  his  face  to 
ners  ;  "  why  this  silence  ?  " 

"Ah,  Harold  ! "  answered  his  betrothed,  "thou  knowest 
that  ever  since  we  have  loved  one  another,  my  existence 
hath  been  but  a  shadow  of  thine  ;  by  some  weird  and 
Strange  mystery,  which  Hilda  would  explain  by  the  stars 
or  the  fates, .that  have  made  me  a  part  of  thee,  I  know 
by  the  lightness  or  gloom  of  my  own  spirit  when  good 
or  ill  shall  befall  thee.  How  often,  in  thine  absence,  hath 
a  joy  suddenly  broke  upon  me  !  and  I  felt  by  that  joy,  as 
by  the  smile  of  a  good  angel,  that  thou  hadst  passed  safe 
through  some  peril,  or  triumphed  over  some  foe  !  And 
now  thou  askest  me  why  I  am  so  sad  ;  —  I  can  only  an- 
swer thee  by  saying,  that  the  sadness  is  cast  upon  me  by 
some  thunder-gloom  on  thine  own  destiny." 

Harold  had  sought  Edith  to  speak  of  his  meditated 
journey,  but  seeing  her  dejection  he  did  not  dare ;  so  he 
drew  her  to  his  breast,  and  chid  her  soothingly  for  her 
vain  apprehensions.  But  Edith  would  not  be  comforted  ; 
there  seemed  something  weighing  on  her  mind  and  strug- 
gling to  her  lips,  not  accounted  for  merely  by  sympathetic 
forebodings  ;  and  at  length,  as  he  pressed  her  to  tell  all, 
she  gathered  courage  and  spoke, — 

"Do  not  mock  me,"  she  said,  "but  what  secret,  whe- 
ther of  vain  folly  or  of  meaning  fate,  should  I  hold  from 
thee  ?  AL  this  day  I  struggled  in  vain  against  the  heavi- 
ness of  my  forebodings.  How  I  hailed  the  sight  of  Gurth 
thy  brother  !  I  besought  him  to  seek  thee  —  thou  hast 
seen  him." 
3* 


30  HAROLD. 

"f  have!"  said  Harold.  "But  thou  wert  about  to 
tell  me  of  something  more  than  this  dejection." 

"  Well,"  resumed  Edith,  "  after  Gurth  left  me,  my  feet 
sought  involuntarily  the  hill  on  which  we  have  met  so 
often.  I  sate  down  near  the  old  tomb,  a  strange  weari- 
ness crept  on  my  eyes,  and  a  sleep  that  seemed  not  wholly 
sleep  fell  over  me.  I  struggled  against  it,  as  if  conscious 
of  some  coming  terror ;  and  as  I  struggled,  and  ere  I 
slept,  Harold, — yes,  ere  I  slept, — I  saw  distinctly  a  pale 
and  glimmering  figure  rise  from  the  Saxon's  grave.  I 
saw  —  I  see  it  still  !  Oh,  that  livid  front,  those  glassy 
eyes  ! " 

V  The  figure  of  a  warrior  ?  "  said  Harold,  startled. 

"  Of  a  warrior,  armed  as  in  the  ancient  days,  armed 
like  the  warrior  that  Hilda's  maids  are  working  for  thy 
banner.  I  saw  it ;  and  in  one  hand  it  held  a  spear,  and 
in  the  other  a  crown." 

"A  crown  !  —  Say  on,  say  on." 

11 1  saw  no  more  ;  sleep,  in  spite  of  myself,  fell  on  me, 
a  sleep  full  of  confused  and  painful — rapid  and  shapeless 
images,  till  at  last  this  dream  rose  clear.  I  beheld  a 
bright  and  starry  shape,  that  seemed  as  a  spirit,  yet  wore 
thine  aspect,  standing  on  a  rock ;  and  an  angry  torrent 
rolled  between  the  rock  and  the  dry,  safe  land.  The 
waves  began  to  invade  the  rock,  and  the  spirit  unfurled 
its  wings  as  to  flee.  And  then  foul  things  climbed  up 
from  the  slime  of  the  rock,  and  descended  from  the  mists 
of  the  troubled  skies,  and  they  coiled  round  the  wings 
and  clogged  them. 


HAROLD.  81 

"  Then  a  voice  cried  in  my  ear,  —  '  Seest  thou  not  on 
the  perilous  rock  the  Soul  of  Harold  the  Brave  ? — seest 
thou  not  that  the  waters  engulf  it,  if  the  wings  fail  to 
flee  ?     Up,  Truth,  whose   strength  is  in   purity,  whose 
image  is  woman,   and   aid   the   soul   of  the  brave  1 '     I 
sought  to  spring  to  thy  side  ;  but  I  was  powerless,  and, 
behold,  close  beside  me,  through  my  sleep  and  through  a 
veil,  appeared  the  shafts  of  the  ruined  temple  in  which  I 
lay  reclined.    And,  methought,  I  saw  Hilda  sitting  alone 
by  the  Saxon rs  grave,  and  pouring  from  a  crystal  vessel 
"black  drops  into  a  human  heart  which  she  held  in  her 
hands  :  and  out  of  that  heart  grew  a  child,  and  out  of 
that  child  a  youth,  with  dark  mournful  brow.     And  the 
youth   stood   by  thy  side  and  whispered  to   thee  :  and 
from  his  lips  there  came  a  reeking  smoke,  and  in  that 
smoke  as  in  a  blight  the  wings  withered   up.     And  I 
heard  the  Yoice  say,  —  (  Hilda,  it  is  thou  that  hast  de- 
stroyed the  good  angel,   and  reared  from  the  poisoned 
heart  the  loathsome  tempter  V     And  I  cried  aloud,  but 
it  was  too  late ;  the  waves  swept  over  thee,  and  above 
the  waves  there  floated  an  iron  helmet,  and  on  the  helmet 
was  a  golden  crown  —  the  crown  I  had  seen  in  the  hand 
of  the  spectre  !  n 

"But  this  is  no  evil  dream,  my  Edith,"  said  Harold 

gaily. 

Edith,  unheeding  him,  continued, — 

"  I  started  from  my  sleep.     The  sun  was  still  high 

the  air  lulled  and  windless.  Then  through  the  shafts 
and  down  the  hill  there  glided  in  that  clear  waking  day- 


82  HAROLD. 

light,  a  grisly  shape  like  that  which  I  have  heard  our 
maidens  say  the  witch-hags,  sometimes  seen  in  the  forest, 
assume  ;  yet  in  truth,  it  seemed  neither  of  man  nor  wo- 
man. It  turned  its  face  once  towards  me,  and  on  that 
hideous  face  were  the  glee  and  hate  of  a  triumphant 
fiend.     Oh,  Harold,  what  should  all  this  portend  ?" 

"  Hast  thou  not  asked  thy  kinswoman,  the  diviner  of 
dreams  ?" 

"I  asked  Hilda,  and  she,  like  thee,  only  murmured 
1  The  Saxon  crown  ! '  But  if  there  be  faith  in  those  airy 
children  of  the  night,  surely,  O  adored  one,  the  vision 
forebodes  danger,  not  to  life,  but  to  soul ;  and  the  words 
I  heard  seemed  to  say  that  thy  wings  were  thy  valor,  and 
the  Fylgia  thou  hadst  lost  was,  —  no,  that  were  impossi- 
ble— » 

"  That  ray  Fylgia  was  Truth,  which  losing,  I  were  in- 
deed lost  to  thee.  Thou  dost  well,"  said  Harold  loftily, 
"to  hold  that  among  the  lies  of  the  fancy.  All  else  may, 
perchance,  desert  me,  but  never  mine  own  free  soul. 
Self-reliant  hath  Hilda  called  me  in  mine  earlier  days, 
and — wherever  fate  casts  me, — in  my  truth,  and  my  love, 
and  my  dauntless  heart,  I  dare  both  man  and  the  fiend." 

Edith  gazed  a  moment  in  devout  admiration  on  the 
mien  of  her  hero-lover,  then  she  drew  close  and  closer  to 
his  breast,  consoled  and  believing. 


HAROLD.  33 


CHAPTER   V. 

With  all  her  persuasion  of  her  own  powers  in  pene- 
trating the  future,  we  have  seen  that  Hilda  had  never 
consulted  her  oracles  on  the  fate  of  Harold,  without  a 
dark  and  awful  sense  of  the  ambiguity  of  their  responses. 
That  fate,  involving  the  mightiest  interests  of  a  great 
race,  and  connected  with  events  operating  on  the  farthest 
times  and  the  remotest  lands,  lost  itself  to  her  prophetic 
ken  amidst  omens  the  most  contradictory,  shadows  and 
lights  the  most  conflicting,  meshes  the  most  entangled. 
Her  human  heart,  devoutly  attached  to  the  earl  through 
her  love  for  Edith,  —  her  pride  obstinately  bent  on  se- 
curing to  the  last  daughter  of  her  princely  race  that 
throne,  which  all  her  vaticinations,  even  when  most 
gloomy,  assured  her  was  destined  to  the  man  with  whom 
Edith's  doom  was  interwoven,  combined  to  induce  her  to 
the  most  favorable  interpretation  of  all  that  seemed 
minister  and  doubtful.  But  according  to  the  tenets  of 
that  peculiar  form  of  magic  cultivated  by  Hilda,  the 
comprehension  became  obscured  by  whatever  partook  of 
human  sympathy.  It  was  a  magic  wholly  distinct  from 
the~  malignant  witchcraft  more  popularly  known  to  us, 
and  which  was  equally  common  to  the  Germanic  and 
Scandinavian  heathens. 

3*  2b 


34  HAROLD. 

The  magic  of  Hilda  was  rather  akin  to  the  old  Cim- 
brian  Alirones,  or  sacred  prophetesses ;  and,  as  with 
them,  it  demanded  the  priestess,  —  that  is,  the  person 
without  human  ties  or  emotions,  a  spirit  clear  as  a  mirror, 
upon  which  the  great  images  of  destiny  might  be  cast 
untroubled. 

However  the  natural  gifts  and  native  character  of 
Hilda  might  be  perverted  by  the  visionary  and  delusive 
studies  habitual  to  her,  there  was  in  her  very  infirmities  a 
grandeur,  not  without  its  pathos.  In  this  position  which 
she  had  assumed  between  the  earth  and  the  heaven,  she 
stood  so  solitary  and  in  such  chilling  air, — all  the  doubts 
that  beset  her  lonely  and  daring  soul  came  in  such 
gigantic  forms  of  terror  and  menace  !  —  On  the  verge  of 
the  mighty  Heathenesse  sinking  fast  into  the  night  of 
ages,  she  towered  amidst  the  shades,  a  shade  herself; 
and  round  her  gathered  the  last  demons  of  the  Dire  Be- 
lief, defying  the  march  of  their  luminous  foe,  and  con- 
centering round  their  mortal  priestess,  the  wrecks  of  their 
horrent  empire  over  a  world  redeemed. 

All  the  night  that  succeeded  her  last  brief  conference 
with  Harold,  the  Yala  wandered  through  the  wild  forest 
land,  seeking  haunts  or  employed  in  collecting  heros, 
hallowed  to  her  dubious  yet  solemn  lore  ;  and  the  last 
stars  were  receding  into  the  cold  grey  skies,  when,  re- 
turning homeward,  she  beheld  within  the  circle  of  the 
Druid  temple  a  motionless  object,  stretched  on  the 
ground  near  the  Teuton's  grave  ;  she  approached,  and 
perceived  what  seemed  a  corpse,  it  was  so  still  and  stiff 


HAROLD.  35 

in  its  repose,  and  the  face  upturned  to  the  stars  was  so 
haggard  and  death-like  ; — a  face  horrible  to  behold  ;  the 
evidence  of  extreme  age  was  written  on  the  shrivelled 
livid  skin  and  the  deep  furrows,  but  the  expression  re- 
tained that  intense  malignity  which  belongs  to  a  power 
of  life  that  extreme  age  rarely  knows.  The  garb,  which 
was  that  of  a  remote  fashion,  was  foul  and  ragged,  and 
neither  by  the  garb,  nor  by  the  face,  was  it  easy  to  guess 
what  was  the  sex  of  this  seeming  corpse.  But  by  a 
strange  and  peculiar  odor  that  rose  from  the  form,  and  a 
certain  glistening  on  the  face,  and  the  lean  folded  hands, 
Hilda  knew  that  the  creature  was  one  of  those  witches, 
esteemed  of  all  the  most  deadly  and  abhorred,  who,  by 
the  application  of  certain  ointments,  were  supposed  to 
possess  the  art  of  separating  soul  from  body,  and,  leaving 
the  last  as  dead,  to  dismiss  the  first  to  the  dismal  orgies 
of  the  Sabbat.  It  was  a  frequent  custom  to  select  for 
the  place  of  such  trances,  heathen  temples  and  ancient- 
graves.  And  Hilda  seated  herself  beside  the  witch  to 
await  the  waking.  The  cock  crowed  thrice,  heavy  mists 
began  to  arise  from  the  glades,  covering  the  gnarled 
roots  of  the  forest  trees,  when  the  dread  face  on  which 
Hilda  calmly  gazed,  showed  symptoms  of  returning  life  ! 
a  strong  convulsion  shook  the  vague  indefinite  form  under 
its  huddled  garments,  the  eyes  opened,  closed,  —  opened 
again  ;  and  what  had  a  few  moments  before  seemed  a 
dead  thing,  sate  up  and  looked  round. 

"  Wicca,"  said  the  Danish  prophetess,  with  an  accent 
between  contempt  and  curiosity,  "for  what  mischief  to 


36  HAROLD. 

beast  or  man  hast  thou  followed  the  noiseless  path  of  the 
Dreams  through  the  airs  of  Night  ?  " 

The  creature  gazed  hard  upon  the  questioner,  from  its 
bleared  but  fiery  eyes,  and  replied  slowly,  "  Hail,  Hilda, 
the  Morthwyrtha  !  why  art  thou  not  of  us  ;  why  comest 
thou  not  to  our  revels  ?  Gay  sport  have  we  had  to-night 
with  Faul  and  Zabulus ;  *  but  gayer  far  shall  our  sport 
be  in  the  wassail  hall  of  Senlac,  when  thy  grand-child 
shall  come  in  the  torchlight  to  the  bridal  bed  of  her  lord. 
A  buxom  bride  is  Edith  the  Fair,  and  fair  looked  her 
face  in  her  sleep  on  yester  noon,  when  I  sate  by  her  side, 
and  breathed  on  her  brow,  and  murmured  the  verse  that 
blackens  the  dream ;  but  fairer  still  shall  she  look  in  her 
sleep  by  her  lord.  Ha  !  ha  !  Ho  !  we  shall  be  there, 
with  Zabulus  and  Faul ;  we  shall  be  there  ! " 

"  How  !  "  said  Hilda,  thrilled  to  learn  that  the  secret 
ambition  she  cherished  was  known  to  this  loathed  sister 
in  the  art.  "  How  dost  thou  pretend  to  that  mystery  of 
the  future,  which  is  dim  and  clouded  even  to  me  ?  Canst 
thou  tell  when  and  where  the  daughter  of  the  Norse 
kings  shall  sleep  on  the  breast  of  her  lord  ? " 

A  sound  that  partook  of  laughter,  but  was  so  unearthly 
in  its  malignant  glee  that  it  seemed  not  to  come  from  a 
human  lip,  answered  the  Yala ;  and  as  the  laugh  died 
the  witch  rose,  and  said, 

"  Go  and  question  thy  dead,  0  Morthwyrtha  !     Thou 

*  Faul  was  an  evil  spirit  much  dreaded  by  the  Saxons.  Zabulus 
and  Diabolus  (the  Devil)  seem  to  have  been  the  same. 


HAROLD.  31 

deemest  thyself  wiser  than  we  are ;  we  wretched  hags, 
whom  the  ceorl  seeks  when  his  herd  has  the  murrain,  or 
the  girl  when  her  false  love  forsakes  her ;  we,  who  have 
no  dwelling  known  to  man,  but  are  found  at  need  in  the 
wold  or  the  cave,  or  the  side  of  dull  slimy  streams  where 
the  murderess-mother  hath  drowned  her  babe.  Askest 
thou,  0  Hilda,  the  rich  and  the  learned,  askest  thou 
counsel  and  lore  from  the  daughter  of  Faul  I " 

"  No,"  answered  the  Yala  haughtily,  "not  to  such  as 
thou,  do  the  great  Nomas  unfold  the  future.  What 
knowest  thou  of  the  runes  of  old,  whispered  by  the  trunk- 
less  skull  to  the  mighty  Odin  ?  runes  that  control  the 
elements,  and  conjure  up  the  Shining  Shadows  of  the 
grave.  Not  with  thee  will  the  stars  confer ;  and  thy 
dreams  are  foul  with  revelries  obscene,  not  solemn  and 
haunted  with  the  bodements  of  things  to  come  !  Only  I 
marvelled,  while  I  beheld  thee  on  the  Saxon's  grave, 
what  joy  such  as  thou  can  find  in  that  life  above  life, 
which  draws  upward  the  soul  of  the  true  Yala." 

"  The  joy,"  replied  the  Witch,  "  the  joy  which  come? 
from  wisdom  and  power,  higher  than  you  ever  won  with 
your  spells  from  the  rune  or  the  star.  Wrath  gives  the 
venom  to  the  slaver  of  the  dog,  and  death  to  the  curse 
of  the  Witch.  When  wilt  thou  be  as  wise  as  the  hag 
thou  despisest  ?  When  will  all  the  clouds  that  beset  thee 
roll  away  from  thy  ken  ?  When  thy  hopes  are  all  crushed, 
when  thy  passions  lie  dead,  when  thy  pride  is  abased, 
when  thou  art  but  a  wreck,  like  the  shafts  of  this  temple, 
through  which  the  star-light  can  shine.      Then  only,  thy 

II.—  4 


38  HAROLD. 

soul  will  see  clearly  the  sense  of  the  runes,  and  then, 
thou  and  I  will  meet  on  the  verge  of  the  Black  Shore- 
less Sea  ! " 

So,  despite  all  her  haughtiness  and  disdain,  did  these 
words  startle  the  lofty  Prophetess,  that  she  remained 
gazing  into  space  long  after  that  fearful  apparition  had 
vanished,  and  up  from  the  grass,  which  those  obscene 
steps  had  profaned,  sprang  the  lark  carolling. 

But  ere  the  sun  had  dispelled  the  dews  on  the  forest 
sward,  Hilda  had  recovered  her  wonted  calm,  and,  locked 
within  her  own  secret  chamber,  prepared  the  seid  and  the 
runes  for  the  invocation  of  the  dead. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Resolving,  should  the  auguries  consulted  permit  him 
to  depart,  to  entrust  Gurth  with  the  charge  of  informing 
Edith,  Harold  parted  from  his  betrothed,  without  hint  of 
his  suspended  designs ;  and  he  passed  the  day  in  making 
all  preparations  for  his  absence  and  his  journey,  promis- 
ing Gurth  to  give  his  final  answer  on  the  morrow, — when 
either  himself  or  his  brother  should  depart  for  Rouen  ; 
but  more  and  more  impressed  with  the  arguments  of 
Gurth,  and  his  own  sober  reason,  and  somewhat  perhaps 
influenced  by  the  forebodings  of  Edith  (for  that  mind, 
once  so  constitutionally  firm,  had  become  tremulously 
alive  to  such  airy  influences),  he  had  almost  pr^deter- 


HAROLD.  39 

mined  to  assent  to  his  brother's  prayer,  when  he  departed 
to  keep  his  dismal  appointment  with  the  Morthwyrtha. 
The  night  was  dim,  but  not  dark  ;  no  moon  shone,  but 
the  stars,  wan  though  frequent,  gleamed  pale,  as  from  the 
farthest  deeps  of  the  heaven  ;  clouds  grey  and  fleecy 
rolled  slowly  across  the  welkin,  veiling  and  disclosing,  by 
turns,  the  melancholy  orbs. 

The  Morthwyrtha,  in  her  dark  dress,  stood  within  the 
circle  of  stones.  She  had  already  kindled  a  fire  at  the 
foot  of  the  bautastein,  and  its  glare  shone  redly  on  the 
grey  shafts ;  playing  through  their  forlorn  gaps  upon  the 
sward.  By  her  side  was  a  vessel,  seemingly  of  pure 
water,  filled  from  the  old  Roman  fountain,  and  its  clear 
surface  flashed  blood-red  in  the  beams.  Behind  them,  in 
a  circle  round  both  fire  and  water,  were  fragments  of 
bark,  cut  in  a  peculiar  form,  like  the  head  of  an  arrow, 
and  inscribed  with  the  mystic  letters  ;  nine  were  the  frag- 
ments, and  on  each  fragment  were  graved  the  runes.  In 
her  right  hand  the  Morthwyrtha  held  her  scid  staff ;  her 
feet  were  bare,  and  her  loins  girt  by  the  Hnnnish  belt, 
inscribed  with  mystic  letters  ;  from  the  belt  hung  a  pouch 
or  gipsire  of  bear-skin,  with  plates  of  silver.  Her  face, 
as  Harold  entered  the  circle,  had  lost  its  usual  calm — it 
was  wild  and  troubled. 

She  seemed  unconscious  of  Harold's  presence,  and  her 
eye,  fixed  and  rigid,  was  as  that  of  one  in  a  trance. 
Slowly,  as  if  constrained  by  some  power  not  her  own, 
she  began  to  move  round  the  ring  with  a  measured  pace, 
and  at  last  her  voice  broke  low,  hollow,  and  internal,  into 


40  HAROLD. 

a  rugged  chaunt,  which  may  be  thus  imperfectly  trans- 
lated :  — 

"By  the  Urdar-fount  dwelling, 

Day  by  day  from  the  rill, 
The  Nomas  besprinkle 

The  ash  Ygg-drassill.* 
The  hart  bites  the  buds, 

And  the  snake  gnaws  the  root, 
But  the  eagle  all-seeing 

Keeps  watch  on  the  fruit. 

These  drops  on  thy  tomb 

From  the  fountain  I  pour; 
With  the  rune  I  invoke  thee, 

With  flame  I  restore. 
Dread  Father  of  men 

In  the  land  of  thy  grave, 
Give  voice  to  the  Vala, 

And  light  to  the  Brave." 

As  she  thus  chanted,  the  Morthwyrtha  now  sprinkled 
the  drops  from  the  vessel  over  the  bautastein,  —  now  one 
by  one  cast  the  fragments  of  bark  scrawled  with  runes  on 
the  fire.  Then,  whether  or  not  some  glutinous  or  other 
chemical  material  had  been  mingled  in  the  water,  a  pale 
gleam  broke  from  the  grave-stone  thus  besprinkled,  and 
the  whole  tomb  glistened  in  the  light  of  the  leaping  fire. 
From  this  light  a  mist  of  thin  smoke  gradually  rose,  and 
took,  though  vaguely,  the  outline  of  a  vast  human  form  ; 
but  so  indefinite  was  the  outline  to  Harold's  eye,  that 
gazing  on  it  steadily,  and  stilling  with  strong  effort  his 


*  Ygg-drassill,  the  mystic  Ash-tree  of  Life,  or   symbol  of  the 
earth,  watered  by  the  Fates. 


HAROLD.  4l 

loud  heart,  he  knew  not  whether  it  was  a  phantom  or  a 
vapor  that  he  beheld. 

The  Yala  paused,  leaning  on  her  staff,  and  gazing  in 
awe  on  the  glowing  stone,  while  the  earl,  with  his  arms 
folded  on  his  broad  breast,  stood  hushed  and  motionless. 
The  sorceress  recommenced  — 

"  Mighty  Dead,  I  revere  thee, 
Dim-shaped  from  the  cloud, 
With  the  light  of  thy  deeds 
For  the  web  of  thy  shroud; 

"As  Odin  consulted 

Mimir's  skull  hollow-eyed,* 
Odin's  heir  comes  to  seek 
In  the  Phantom  a  guide." 

As  the  Morthwyrtha  ceased,  the  fire  crackled  loud,  and 
from  its  flame  flew  one  of  the  fragments  of  bark  to  the 
feet  of  the  sorceress  :  —  the  runic  letters  all  indented  with 
sparks. 

The  sorceress  uttered  a  loud  cry,  which,  despite  his 
courage  and  his  natural  strong  sense,  thrilled  through  the 
earPs  heart  to  his  marrow  and  bones,  so  appalling  was  it 
with  wrath  and  terror ;  and  while  she  gazed  aghast  on 
the  blazing  letters,  she  burst  forth  — 

"No  warrior  art  thou, 

And  no  child  of  the  tomb; 
I  know  thee,  and  shudder, 
Great  Asa  of  Doom. 

*  Mimir,  the  most  celebrated  of  the  giants.  The  Vaner,  with 
whom  he  was  left  as  a  hostage,  cut  off  his  head.  Odin  embalmed 
it  by  his  seid,  or  magic  art,  pronounced  oyer  it  mystic  runes,  and, 
ever  after,  consulted  it  on  critical  occasions. 

4* 


42  HAROLD. 

"Thou  constrainest  my  lips, 

And  thou   crushest  my  spell, 
Bright  Son  of  the  Giant  — 
Dark  Father  of  Hell ! "  * 

The  whole  form  of  the  Morthwyrtha  then  became  con- 
vulsed and  agitated,  as  if  with  the  tempest  of  frenzy ; 
the  foam  gathered  to  her  lips,  and  her  voice  rang  forth 
like  a  shriek  — 

"  In  the  Iron  Wood  rages 
The  Weaver  of  Harm, 
The  giant  Blood-drinker 
Hag-born  Managarm.-)- 

"A  keel  nears  the  shoal; 

From  the  slime  and  the  mud 
Crawl  the  newt  and  the  adder, 
The  spawn  of  the  flood. 

"Thou  stand'st  on  the  rock 

Where  the  dreamer  beheld  thee. 
0  soul,  spread  thy  wings, 

Ere  the  glamour  hath  spell'd  thee. 

*  Asa-Lok  or  Loke  —  (distinct  from  Utgard-Lok,  the  demon  of 
fche  Infernal  Regions) — descended  from  the  Giants,  but  received 
among  the  celestial  deities;  a  treacherous  and  malignant  Power 
fond  of  assuming  disguises  and  plotting  evil;  —  corresponding  in 
his  attributes  with  our  "Lucifer." — One  of  his  progeny  was  Hela, 
the  queen  of  Hell. 

|  "A  hag  dwells  in  a  wood  called  Jamvid,  the  Iron  Wood,  the 
mother  of  many  gigantie  sons,  shaped  like  wolves ;  there  is  one 
of  a  race  more  fearful  than  all,  named  'Managarm.'  He  will  be 
filled  with  the  blood  of  men  who  draw  near  their  end,  and  will 
swallow  up  the  moon  and  stain  the  heavens  and  the  earth  with 
blood."  —  From  the  Prose  Edda.  In  the  Scandinavian  poetry, 
Managarm  is  sometimes  the  symbol  of  war,  and  the  "  Iron  Wood  " 
a  metaphor  for  spears. 


HAROLD.  43 

"Oh,  dread  is  the  tempter, 
And  strong  the  control ; 
But  conquer'd  the  tempter, 
If  firm  be  the  soul ! " 

The  Yala  paused ;  and  though  it  was  evident  that  in 
her  frenzy  she  was  still  unconscious  of  Harold's  presencev 
and  seemed  but  to  be  the  compelled  and  passive  voice  to 
some  Power,  real  or  imaginary,  beyond  her  own  exist- 
ence, the  proud  man  approached,  and  said  — 

"Firm  shall  be  my  soul ;  nor  of  the  dangers  which  be- 
set it  would  I  ask  the  dead  or  the  living.  If  plain 
answers  to  mortal  sense  can  come  from  these  airy  shadows 
or  these  mystic  charms,  reply,  0  interpreter  of  fate  ;  reply 
but  to  the  questions  I  demand.  If  I  go  to  the  court  of 
ths  Norman,  shall  I  return  unscathed  ? " 

The  Yala  stood  rigid  as  a  shape  of  stone  while  Harold 
thus  spoke,  and  her  voice  came  so  low  and  strange  as  if 
forced  from  her  scarce-moving  lips  — 

"Thou  shalt  return  unscathed." 

"  Shall  the  hostages  of  Godwin,  my  father,  be  re- 
leased  f w 

"The  hostages  of  Godwin  shall  be  released,"  answered 
the  same  voice  ;  "  the  hostage  of  Harold  be  retained." 

"  Wherefore  hostage  from  me  ?  " 

"In  pledge  of  alliance  with  the  Norman." 

"  Ha !  then  the  Norman  and  Harold  shall  plight 
friendship  and  troth?" 

"  Yes  ;  "  answered  the  Yala ;  but  this  time  a  visible 
shudder  passed  over  her  rigid  form. 


44  HAROLD. 

"  Two  questions  more,  and  I  have  done.  The  Norman 
priests  have  the  ear  of  the  Roman  pontiff.  Shall  my 
league  with  William  the  Norman  avail  to  win  me  my 
bride?" 

"  It  will  win  thee  the  bride  thou  wouldst  never  have 
wedded  but  for  thy  league  with  William  the  Norman. 
Peace  with  thy  questions,  peace  ! "  continued  the  voice, 
trembling  as  with  some  fearful  struggle ;  "  for  it  is  the 
Demon  that  forces  my  words,  and  they  wither  my  soul  to 
speak  them." 

"But  one  question  more  remains;  shall  I  live  to  wear 
the  crown  of  England  ;  and  if  so,  when  shall  I  be  a  king  ?  " 

At  these  words  the  face  of  the  prophetess  kindled,  the 
fire  suddenly  leapt  up  higher  and  brighter ;  again,  vivid 
sparks  lighted  the  runes  on  the  fragments  of  bark  that 
were  shot  from  the  flame ;  over  these  last  the  Morth- 
wyrtha  bowed  her  head,  and  then,  lifting  it,  triumphautiy 
burst  once  more  into  song. 

"When  the  Wolf  Month,*  grim  and  still, 
Heaps  the  snow-mass  on  the  hill; 
When,  through  white  air  sharp  and  bitter, 
Mocking  sun-beams  freeze  and  glitter; 
When  the  ice-gems  bright  and  barbed, 
Deck  the  boughs  the  leaves  have  garbed; 
Then  the  measure  shall  be  meted, 
And  the  circle  be  completed. 
Cerdic's  race  the  Thor-descended, 
In  the  Monk-king's  tomb  be  ended; 
And  no  Saxon  brow  but  thine 
Wear  the  crown  of  Woden's  line. 

*  Wolf  Month,  January. 


HAROLD.  45 

"Where  thou  wendest,  wend  unfearing, 
Every  step  thy  throne  is  nearing. 
Fraud  may  plot,  and  force  assail  thee,  — 
Shall  the  soul  thou  trustest  fail  thee? 
If  it  fail  thee,  scornful  hearer, 
Still  the  throne  shines  near  and  nearer. 
Guile  with  guile  oppose,  and  never 
Crown  and  brow  shall  Force  dissever: 
Till  the  dead  men  unforgiving 
Loose  the  war-steeds  on  the  living. 
Till  a  sun  whose  race  is  ending 
Sees  the  rival  stars  contending, 
Where  the  dead  men  unforgiving, 
Wheel  the  war-steeds  round  the  living. 

"Where  thou  wendest,  wend  unfearing; 
Every  step  thy  throne  is  nearing. 
Never  shall  thy  House  decay, 
Nor  thy  sceptre  pass  away, 
While  the  Saxon  name  endureth 
In  the  land  thy  throne  secureth; 
Saxon  name  and  throne  together, 
Leaf  and  root,  shall  wax  and  wither; 
So  the  measure  shall  be  meted, 
And  the  circle  close  completed. 

"Art  thou  answered,  dauntless  seeker? 
Go,  thy  bark  shall  ride  the  breaker  — 
Every  billow  high  and  higher, 
Waft  thee  up  to  thy  desire; 
And  a  force  beyond  thine  own, 
Drift  and  strand  thee  on  the  throne. 

"When  the  Wolf  Month,  grim  and  still, 
Piles  the  snow-mass  on  the  hill, 
In  the  white  air  sharp  and  bitter 
Shall  thy  kingly  sceptre  glitter: 
When  the  ice-gems  barb  the  bough, 
Shall  the  jewels  clasp  thy  brow ; 


46  HAROLD. 

Winter-wind,  the  oak  uprending; 
With  the  altar-anthem  blending, 
Wind  shall  howl,  and  mone  shall  sing, 
'Hail  to  Harold  — Hail  the  KiNa!'" 

An  exultation  that  seemed  more  than  human,  so  in- 
tense it  was,  and  so  solemn, — thrilled,  in  the  voice  which 
thus  closed  predictions  that  seemed  signally  to  belie  the 
more  vague  and  menacing  warnings  with  which  the 
dreary  incantation  had  commenced.  The  Morthwyrtha 
stood  erect  and  stately,  still  gazing  on  the  pale  blue  flame 
that  rose  from  the  burial  stone,  till  slowly  the  flame  waned 
and  paled,  and  at  last  died  with  a  sudden  flicker,  leaving 
the  grey  tomb  standing  forth  all  weather-worn  and  deso- 
late,  while  a  wind  rose  from  the  north,  and  sighed  through 
the  roofless  columns.  Then,  as  the  light  over  the  grave 
expired,  Hilda  gave  a  deep  sigh,  and  fell  to  the  ground 
senseless. 

Harold  lifted  his  eyes  towards  the  stars,  and  mur- 
mured— 

"  If  it  be  a  sin,  as  the  priests  say,  to  pierce  the  dark 
walls  which  surround  us  here,  and  read  the  future  in  the 
dim  world  beyond,  why  gavest  thou,  0  Heaven,  the 
reason,  ne\a£r  resting,  save  when  it  explores  ?  Why  hast 
thou  set  in  the  heart  the  mystic  Law  of  Desire,  ever 
toiling  to  the  High,  ever  grasping  at  the  Far?" 

Heaven  answered  not  the  unquiet  soul.  The  clouds 
passed  to  and  fro  in  their  wanderings,  the  wind  still  sighed 
through  the  hollow  stones,  the  fire  shot  with  vain  sparks 


HAROLD.  47 

towards  the  distant  stars.  In  the  cloud  and  the  wind 
and  the  fire  couldst  thou  read  no  answer  from  Heaven, 
unquiet  soul  ? 

The  next  day,  with  a  gallant  company,  the  falcon  on 
his  wrist,*  the  sprightly  hound  gambolling  Wore  his 
steed,  blithe  of  heart  and  high  in  hope,  Eurl  Harold 
took  his  way  to  the  Norman  court. 


*  Bayeux  tapestry. 


BOOK   NINTn 


THE    BONES    OF    THE    DEAD 


CHAPTER    I. 

William,  count  of  the  Normans,  sate  in  a  fair  chain* 
ber  of  his  palace  of  Rouen ;  and  on  the  large  table  be- 
fore him  were  ample  evidences  of  the  various  labors,  as 
warrior,  chief,  thinker,  and  statesman,  which  filled  the 
capacious  breadth  of  that  sleepless  mind. 

There,  lay  a  plan  of  the  new  port  of  Cherbourg,  and 
beside  it  an  open  MS.  of  the  duke's  favorite  book,  the 
Commentaries  of  Caesar,  from  which,  it  is  said,  he  bor- 
rowed some  of  the  tactics  of  his  own  martial  science ; 
marked,  and  dotted,  and  interlined  with  his  large  bold 
hand-writing,  were  the  words  of  the  great  Roman.  A 
score  or  so  of  long  arrows,  which  had  received  aome 
skilful  improvement  in  feather  or  bolt,  lay  carelessly  scat- 
tered over  some  architectural  sketches  of  a  new  abbey 
church,  and  the  proposed  charter  for  its  endowment.  An 
open  cyst,  of  the  beautiful  workmanship  for  which  the 
English  goldsmiths  were  then  pre-eminently  renowned, 

(48) 


HAROLD.  49 

that  had  been  among  the  parting  gifts  of  Edward,  con- 
tained letters  from  the  various  potentates  near  and  far, 
who  sought  his  alliance  or  menaced  his  repose. 

On  a  perch  behind  him  sate  his  favorite  Norway  falcon, 
unhooded,  for  it  had  been  taught  the  finest  polish  in  its 
dainty  education, — viz.,  "to  face  company  undisturbed." 
At  a  kind  of  easel  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall,  a  dwarf, 
misshapen  in  limbs,  but  of  a  face  singularly  acute  and 
intelligent,  was  employed  in  the  outline  of  that  famous 
action  at  Val  des  Dunes,  which  had  been  the  scene  of 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  of  William's  feats  in  arms— an 
outline  intended  to  be  transferred  to  the  notable  "  stitch- 
work"  of  Matilda  the  Duchess. 

Upon  the  floor,  playing  with  a  huge  boar  hound  of 
English  breed,  that  seemed  but  ill  to  like  the  play,  and 
every  now  and  then  snarled  and  showed  his  white  teeth, 
was  a  young  boy,  with  something  of  the  duke's  features, 
but  with  an  expression  more  open  and  less  sagacious  ; 
and  something  of  the  duke's  broad  build  of  chest  and 
shoulder,  but  without  promise  of  the  duke's  stately 
stature,  which  was  needed  to  give  grace  and  dignity  to  a 
strength  otherwise  cumbrous  and  graceless.  And  indeed, 
since  William's  visit  to  England,  his  athletic  shape  had 
lost  much  of  its  youthful  symmetry,  though  not  yet  de- 
formed by  that  corpulence  which  was  a  disease  almost  as 
rare  in  the  Norman  as  the  Spartan.  Nevertheless,  what 
is  a  "defect  in  the  gladiator  is  often  but  a  beauty  in  the 
prince  ;  and  the  duke's  large  proportions  filled  the  eye 
with  a  sense  both  of  regal  majesty  and  physical  power. 

II.  —  5  2c 


50  HAROL  ' 

His  countenance,  yet  more  than  his  form,  showed  the 
work  of  time  ;  the  short  dark  hair  was  worn  into  partial 
baldness  at  the  temples  by  the  habitual  friction  of  the 
casque,  and  the  constant  indulgence  of  wily  stratagem 
and  ambitious  craft  had  deepened  the  wrinkles  round  the 
plotting  eye  and  the  firm  mouth  :  so  that  it  was  only  by 
an  effort  like  that  of  an  actor,  that  his  aspect  regained 
the  knightly  and  noble  frankness  it  had  once  worn.  The 
accomplished  prince  was  no  longer,  in  truth,  what  the 
bold  warrior  had  been, — he  was  greater  in  state  and  less 
in  soul.  And  already,  despite  all  his  grand  qualities  as 
a  ruler,  his  imperious  nature  had  betrayed  signs  of  what 
he  (whose  constitutional  sternness  the  Norman  freemen, 
not  without  effort,  curbed  into  the  limits  of  justice)  might 
become,  if  wider  scope  were  afforded  to  his  fiery  passions 
and  unsparing  will. 

Before  the  duke,  who  was  leaning  his  chin  on  his  hand, 
stood  Mallet  de  Graville,  speaking  earnestly,  and  his  dis- 
course seemed  both  to  interest  and  please  his  lord. 

"  Eno' !  "  said  William,  "  I  comprehend  the  nature  of 
the  land  and  its  'men,  —  a  land  that,  untaught  by  experi- 
ence and  persuaded  that  a  peace  of  twenty. or  thirty  years 
must  last  till  the  crack  of  doom,  neglects  all  its  defences, 
and  has  not  one  fort,  save  Dover,  between  the  coast  and 
the  capital, — a  land  which  must  be  won  or  lost  by  a  single 
battle,  and  men  [here  the  duke  hesitated] — and  men," 
he  resumed  with  a  sigh,  "  whom  it  will  be  so  hard  to  con- 
quer, that,  pardex,  I  don't  wonder  they  neglect  their  for- 
tresses.    Enough,   I  say,  of  them.     Let   us    return   to 


HAROLD.  51 

Harold,  —  thou  thinkest,  then,  that  he  is  worthy  of  his 
fame  ?  " 

"  He  is  almost  the  only  Englishman  I  have  seen," 
answered  De  G-ravMle,  "  who  hath  received  scholarly  rear- 
ing and  nurture ;  and  all  his  faculties  are  so  evenly 
balanced,  and  all  accompanied  by  so  composed  a  calm, 
that  methinks,  when  I  look  at  and  hear  him,  I  contem- 
plate some  artful  castle,  —  the  strength  of  which  can 
never  be  known  at  the  first  glance,  nor  except  by  those 
who  assail  it." 

"  Thou  art  mistaken,  Sire  de  Graville,"  said  the  duke, 
with  a  shrewd  and  cunning  twinkle  of  his  luminous  dark 
eyes.  "  For  thou  tellest  me  that  he  hath  no  thought  of 
my  pretensions  to  the  English  throne,  —  that  he  inclines 
willingly  to  thy  suggestions  to  come  himself  to  my  court 
for  the  hostages, — that,  in  a  word,  he  is  not  suspicious." 

"  Certes,  he  is  not  suspicious,"  returned  Mallet. 

"And  thinkest  thou  that  an  artful  castle  were  worth 
much  without  warder  or  sentry,  —  or  a  cultivated  mind 
strong  and  safe,  without  its  watchman,  —  Suspicion  ?" 

"  Truly,  my  lord  speaks  well  and  wisely,"  said  the 
knight,  startled  :  "but  Harold  is  a  man  thoroughly  Eng- 
lish, and  the  English  are  a  gens  the  least  suspecting  of 
any  created  thing  between  an  angel  and  a  sheep." 

William  laughed  aloud.  But  his  laugh  was  checked 
suddenly  ;  for  at  that  moment  a  fierce  yell  smote  his  ears, 
and  looking  hastily  up,  he  saw  his  hound  and  his  son 
rolling  together  on  the  ground,  in  a  grapple  that  seemed 
deadly. 


52  HAROLD. 

William  sprang  to  the  spot;  but  the  boy,  who  was 
then  under  the  dog,  cried  out, — "  Laissez  alter/  Laissez 
aller!  no  rescue  !  I  will  master  my  own  foe  ;"  and  so 
saying,  with  a  vigorous  effort  he  gained  his  knee,  and 
with  both  hands  griped  the  hound's  throat,  so  that  the 
beast  twisted  in  vain,  to  and  fro,  with  gnashing  jaws,  and 
in  another  minute  would  have  panted  out  its  last. 

"  I  may  save  my  good  hound  now,1'  said  William,  with 
the  gay  smile  of  his  earlier  days,  and,  though  not  without 
some  exertion  of  his  prodigious  strength,  he  drew  the  dog 
from  his  son's  grasp. 

"  That  was  ill  done,  father,"  said  Robert,  surnamed 
even  then  the  Courthose,  "  to  take  part  with  thy  son's 
foe." 

"  But  my  son's  foe  is  thy  father's  property,  my  vaitlant," 
said  the  duke  ;  "  and  thou  must  answer  to  me  for  treason 
in  provoking  quarrel  and  feud  with  my  own  four-footed 
vavasour." 

"  It  is  not  thy  property,  father ;  thou  gavest  the  dog 
to  me  when  a  whelp." 

"  Fables,  Monseigneur  de  Courthose  ;  I  lent  it  to  thee 
but  for  a  day,  when  thou  hadst  put  out  thine  ankle-bone 
in  jumping  off  the  rampire  ;  and  all  maimed  as  thou  wert, 
thou  hadst  still  malice  enow  in  thee  to  worry  the  poor 
beast  into  a  fever." 

"  Gave  or  lent,  it  is  the  same  thing,  father ;  what  I 
have  once,  that  will  I  hold,  as  thou  didst  before  me,  in 
thy  cradle." 

Then  the  great  duke,  who  in  his  own  house  was  the 


HAROLD.  53 

fondest  and  weakest  of  men,  was  so  doltish  and  doting 
as  to  take  the  boy  in  his  arms  and  kiss  him,  —  nor,  with 
all  his  far-sighted  sagacity,  deemed  he  that  in  that  kiss 
lay  the  seed  of  the  awful  curse  that  grew  up  from  a 
father's  agony,  to  end  in  a  son's  misery  and  perdition. 

Even  Mallet  de  Graville  frowned  at  the  sight  of  the 
sire's  infirmity,  —  even  Turold  the  dwarf  shook  his  head. 
At  that  moment  an  officer  entered,  and  announced  that 
an  English  nobleman,  apparently  in  great  haste  (for  his 
horse  had  dropped  down  dead  as  he  dismounted),  had 
arrived  at  the  palace,  and  craved  instant  audience  of  the 
duke.  William  put  down  the  boy,  gave  the  brief  order 
for  the  stranger's  admission,  and,  punctilious  in  ceremo- 
nial, beckoning  De  Graville  to  follow  him,  passed  at  once 
into  the  next  chamber,  and  seated  himself  in  his  chair 
of  state. 

In  a  few  moments  one  of  the  seneschals  of  the  palace 
ushered  in  a  visitor,  whose  long  moustache  at  once  pro- 
claimed him  Saxon,  and  in  whom  De  Graville  with  sur- 
prise recognized  his  old  friend,  Godrith.  The  young 
thegn,  with  a  reverence  more  hasty  than  that  to  which 
William  was  accustomed,  advanced  to  the  foot  of  the 
dais,  and,  using  the  Norman  language,  said,  in  a  voice 
thick  with  emotion  — 

"  From  Harold  the  earl,  greeting  to  thee,  Monseigneur. 
Most  foul  and  unchristian  wrong  hath  been  done  the  earl 
by  thy  liegeman,  Guy,  Count  of  Ponthieu.  Sailing  hither 
in  two  barks  from  England,  with  intent  to  visit  thy  court, 
ritorm  and  wind  drove  the  earl's  vessels  towards  the  mouth 
5* 


H  HAROLD. 

?f  Jie  tiomme ;  *  there  landing,  and  without  fear,  as  in 
no  hostile  country,  he  and  his  train  were  seized  by  the 
count  himself,  and  cast  into  prison  in  the  Castle  of  Bel- 
reiu.-j-  A  dungeon  fit  but  for  malefactors,  holds,  while  I 
speak,  the  first  lord  of  England,  and  brother-in-law  to  its 
king.  Nay,  hints  of  famine,  torture,  and  death  itself, 
have  been  darkly  thrown  out  by  this  most  disloyal  count, 
whether  in  earnest,  or  with  the  base  view  of  heightening 
ransom.  At  length,  wearied  perhaps  by  the  earl's  firm* 
ness  and  disdain,  this  traitor  of  Ponthieu  hath  permitted 
me  in  the  earl's  behalf  to  bear  the  message  of  Harold. 
He  came  to  thee  as  to  a  prince  and  a  friend  :  suffered 
thou  thy  liegeman  to  detain  him  as  a  thief  or  a  foe  ?  " 

"  Noble  Englishman,"  replied  William,  gravely,  "  this 
is  a  matter  more  out  of  my  cognizance  than  thou  seemest 
to  think.  It  is  true  that  Guy,  Count  of  Ponthieu,  holds 
fief  under  me,  but  I  have  no  control  over  the  laws  of  his 
realm.  And  by  those  laws,  he  hath  right  of  life  and 
death  over  all  stranded  and  waifed  on  his  coast.  Much 
grieve  I  for  the  mishap  of  your  famous  earl,  and  what  I 
can  do  I  will :  but  I  can  only  treat  in  this  matter  with 
Guy,  as  prince  with  prince,  not  as  lord  to  vassal.  ,  Mean- 
while I  pray  you  to  take  rest  and  food  ;  and  I  will  seek 
prompt  counsel  as  to  the  measures  to  adopt." 

The  Saxon's  face  showed,  disappointment  and  dismay 
at  this  answer,  so  different  from  what  he  had  expected ; 

*  Roman  de  Rou.     See  Part  ii.  1078. 

j-  Belrem,  the  present  Beaurain,  near  Montrcuil 


HAROLD.  55 

and  lie  replied  with  the  natural  honest  bluntness  which 
all  his  younger  affection  of  Norman  manners  had  never 
eradicated  — 

11  Food  will  I  not  touch,  nor  wine  drink,  till  thou,  Lord 
Count,  hast  decided  what  help,  as  noble  to  noble,  Chris- 
tian to  Christian,  man  to  man,  thou  givest  to  him  who 
has  come  into  this  peril,  solely  from  his  trust  in  thee." 

"Alas  !  "  said  the  grand  dissimulator,  "  heavy  is  the 
responsibility  with  which  thine  ignorance  of  our  land, 
laws,  and  men,  would  charge  me.  If  I  take  but  one 
false  step  in  this  matter,  woe  indeed  to  thy  lord  !  Guy 
is  hot  and  haughty,  and  in  his  droits  ;  he  is  capable  of 
sending  me  the  earl's  head  in  reply  to  too  dure  a  request 
for  his  freedom.  Much  treasure  and  broad  lands  will  it 
cost  me,  I  fear,  to  ransom  the  earl.  But  be  cheered  ; 
half  my  duchy  were  not  too  high  a  price  for  thy  lord's 
safety.  Co,  then,  and  eat  with  a  good  heart,  and  drink 
to  the  earl's  health  with  a  hopeful  prayer." 

"An'  it  please  you,  my  lord,"  said  De  Graville*  "I 
know  this  gentle  thegn,  and  will  beg  of  you  the  grace 
to  see  to  his  entertainment,  and  sustain  his  spirits." 

"  Thou  shalt,  but  later ;  so  noble  a  guest  none  but  my 
chief  seneschal  should  be  the  first  to  honor."  Then, 
turning  to  the  officer  in  waiting,  he  bade  him  lead  the 
Saxon  to  the  chamber  tenanted  by  William  Fitzosborne 
(who  then  lodged  within  the  palace),  and  committed  him 
to  that  count's  care. 

As  the  Saxon  sullenly  withdrew,  and  as  the  door  closed 


56  HAROLD. 

on  him,  William  rose  and  strode  to  and  fro  the  room 
exultingly. 

"  I  have  him  !  I  have  him  ! "  he  cried  aloud  ;  "  not  as 
free  guest,  but  as  ransomed  captive.  I  have  him  —  the 
earl !  —  I  have  him  !  Go  Mallet,  my  friend,  now  seek 
this  sour-looking  Englishman  ;  and,  hark  thee  !  fill  his 
cars  with  all  the  tales  thou  canst  think  of,  as  to  Guy's 
cruelty  and  ire.  Enforce  all  the  difficulties  that  lie  in  my 
way  towards  the  earl's  delivery.  Great  make  the  danger 
of  the  earPs  capture,  and  vast  all  the  favor  of  release. 
Comprehendest  thou?" 

"  I  am  Norman,  Monseigneur,"  replied  De  Graville, 
with  a  slight  smile ;  u  and  we  Normans  can  make  a  short 
mantle  cover  a  large  space.  You  will  not  be  displeased 
with  my  address." 

"  Go,  then  —  go,"  said  William,  "and  send  me  forth- 
with—  Lanfranc  —  no,  hold  —  not   Lanfranc,  he  is  too 

scrupulous  ;  Fitzosborne  —  no,  too  haughty.     Go,  first 

j 

to  my  brother,  Odo  of  Bayeux,  and  pray  him  to  seek  me 
on  the  instant." 

The  knight  bowed  and  vanished,  and  William  con- 
tinued to  pace  the  rcom,  with  sparkling  eyes  and  mur- 
muring lips. 


HAROLD.  57 


CHAPTER   II. 

Xot  till  after  repeated  messages,  at  first  without  talk 
of  ransom,  and  in  high  tone,  affected,  no  doubt,  by 
William  to  spin  out  the  negotiations,  and  augment  the 
value  of  his  services,  did  Guy  of  Ponthieu  consent  to 
release  his  illustrious  captive  —  the  guerdon,  a  large  sum 
and  un  bel  manier*  on  the  river  Eaulne.  But  whether 
that  guerdon  were  the  fair  ransom-fee,  or  the  price  for 
concerted  snare,  no  man  now  can  say,  and  sharper  than 
ours  the  wit  that  forms  the  more  likely  guess.  These 
stipulations  effected,  Guy  himself  opened  the  doors  of 
the  dungeon;  and  affecting  to  treat  the  whole  matter  as 
one  of  law  and  right,  now  happily  and  fairly  settled,  was 
as  courteous  and  debonnair  as  he  had  before  been  dark 
and  menacing. 

He  even  himself,  with  a  brilliant  train,  accompanied 
Harold  to  the  Chateau  WEu,\  whither  William  journeyed 
to  give  him  the  meeting ;  and  laughed  with  a  gay  grace 
at  the  earl's  short  and  scornful  replies  to  his  compliments 
and  excuses.  At  the  gates  of  this  chateau,  not  famous, 
in  after  jtimes,  for  the  good  faith  of  its  lords,  William 
himself,  laying  aside  all  the  pride  of  etiquette  which  he 

*  Roman  de  Rou.     Part  ii.  1079. 
f  William  of  Poitiers,  "  apud  Aucense  Castrum." 
5* 


58  HAROLD. 

had  established  at  his  court,  came  to  receive  his  visitor ; 
and,  aiding  him  to  dismount,  embraced  him  cordially, 
amidst  a  loud  fanfaron  of  fifes  and  trumpets. 

The  flower  of  that  glorious  nobility,  which  a  few 
generarions  had  sufficed  to  rear  out  of  the  lawless  pirates 
of  the  Baltic,  had  been  selected  to  do  honor  alike  to 
guest  and  host. 

There  were  Hugo  de  Montfort,  and  Roger  de  Beau- 
mont, famous  in  council  as  in  the  field,  and  already  grey 
with  fame.  There  was  Henri,  Sire  de  Ferrers,  whose 
name  is  supposed  to  have  arisen  from  the  vast  forges  that 
burned  around  his  castle,  on  the  anvils  of  which  were 
welded  the  arms  impenetrable  in  every  field.  There  was 
Raoul  de  Tancarville,  the  old  tutor  of  William,  heredi- 
tary Chamberlain  of  the  Norman  Counts ;  and  Geoffroi 
de  Mandeville,  and  Tonstain  the  Fair,  whose  name  still 
preserved,  amidst  the  general  corruption  of  appellations, 
the  evidence  of  his  Danish  birth  ;  and  Hugo  de  Grant- 
nesnil,  lately  returned  from  exile  ;  and  Humphrey  de 
Bohun,  whose  old  castle  in  Carcutan  may  yet  be  seen  ; 
and  St.  John,  and  Lacie,  and  D'Aincourt,  of  broad  lands 
between  the  Maine  and  the  Oise ;  and  William  de  Mont- 
fichet ;  and  Roger,  nicknamed  "  Bigod,"  and  Roger  de 
Mortemer ;  and  many  more,  whose  fame  lives  in  another 
land  than  that  of  Neustria  !  There,  too,  were  the  chief 
prelates  and  abbots  of  a  church,  that  since  William's 
accession  had  risen  into  repute  with  Rome  and  with 
Learning,  unequalled  on  this  side  the  Alps ;  their  white 
aubes   over  their   gorgeous   robes ;    Lanfranc,   and  the 


HAROLD.  59 

Bishop  of  Coutance,  and  the  Abbot  of  Bee,  and  foremost 
of  all  in  rank,  but  not  in  learning,  Odo  of  Bayeux. 

So  great  the  assemblage  of  quens  and  prelates,  that 
there  was  small  room  in  the  court-yard  for  the  lesser 
knights  and  chiefs,  who  yet  hustled  each  other,  with  loss 
of  Norman  dignity,  for  a  sight  of  the  lion  which  guarded 
England.  And  still,  amidst  all  those  men  of  mark  and 
might,  Harold,  simple  and  calm,  looked  as  he  had  looked 
on  his  war-ship  in  the  Thames,  the  man  who  could  lead 
them  all ! 

From  those  indeed,  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  see 
him  as  he  passed  up  by  the  side  of  William,  as  tall  as 
the  Duke,  and  no  less  erect  —  of  far  slighter  bulk,  but 
with  a  strength  almost  equal,  to  a  practised  eye,  in  his 
compacter  symmetry  and  more  supple  grace — from  those 
who  saw  him  thus,  an  admiring  murmur  rose  ;  for  no 
men  in  the  world  so  valued  and  cultivated  personal 
advantages  as  the  Norman  knighthood. 

Conversing  easily  with  Harold,  and  well  watching  him 
while  he  conversed,  the  duke  led  his  guest  into  a  private 
chamber  in  the  third  floor  *  of  the  castle,  and  in  that 
chamber  were  Haco  and  Wolnoth. 

"  This,  I  trust,  is  no  surprise  to  you,"  said  the  duke, 
smiling  ;  "and  now  I  shall  but  mar  your  commune."  So 
saying,  he  left  the  room,  and  Wolnoth  rushed  to   his 

*  As  soon  as  the  rude  fort  of  the  middle  ages  admitted  some- 
thing of  magnificence  and  display,  the  state-rooms  were  placed  in 
the  third  story  of  the  inner  court,  as  being  the  most  secure. 


60  HAROLD. 

brother's  arms,  while  Haco,  more  timidly,  drew  near  ana 
touched  the  earl's  robe. 

As  soon  as  the  first  joy  of  the  meeting  was  over,  the 
earl  said  to  Haco,  whom  he  had  drawn  to  his  breast  with 
an  embrace  as  fond  as  that  bestowed  on  Wolnoth :  — 

11  Remembering  thee  a  boy,  I  came  to  say  to  thee,  'Be 
my  son  ;'  but  seeing  thee  a  man,  I  change  the  prayer; 
—  supply  thy  father's  place,  and  be  my  brother  !  And 
thou,  Wolnoth,  hast  thou  kept  thy  word  to  me  ?  Norman 
is  thy  garb,  in  truth  ;  is  thy  heart  still  English  ? " 

"  Hist !  "  whispered  Haco  ;  "hist !  We  have  a  pro- 
verb, that  walls  have  ears." 

"  But  Norman  walls  can  hardly  understand  our  broad 
Saxon  of  Kent,  I  trust,"  said  Harold,  smiling,  though 
with  a  shade  on  his  brow. 

"True;  continue  to  speak  Saxon,"  said  Haco,  "and 
we  are  safe." 

"  Safe  ! "  echoed  Harold. 

"Haco's  fears  are  childish,  my  brother,"  said  Wolnoth, 
"and  he  wrongs  the  Duke." 

"  Not  the  Duke,  but  the  policy  which  surrounds  him 
like  an  atmosphere,"  exclaimed  Haco.  "  Oh,  Harold, 
generous  indeed  wert  thou  to  come  hither  for  thy  kins- 
folk—  generous!  But  for  England's  weal,  better  that 
we  had  rotted  out  our  lives  in  exile,  ere  thou,  hope  and 
prop  of  England,  set  foot  in  these  webs  of  wile." 

"Tut!"  said  Wolnoth,  impatiently;  "good  is  it  for 
England  that  the  Norman  and  Saxon  should  be  friends." 

Harold,  who  had  lived  to  grow  as  wise  in  men's  hearts 


HAROLD.  61 

as  his  father,  save  when  the  natural  trustfulness  that  lay 
under  his  calm  reserve  lulled  his  sagacity,  turned  his  eye 
steadily  on  the  faces  of  his  two  kinsmen  ;  and  he  saw  at 
the  first  glance  that  a  deeper  intellect  and  a  graver  temper 
than  Wolnoth's  fair  face  betrayed,  characterized  the  dark 
eye  and  serious  brow  of  Haco.  He,  therefore,  drew  his 
nephew  a  little  aside,  and  said  to  him, — 

"  Forewarned  is  forearmed.  Deemest  thou  that  this 
fair-spoken  duke  will  dare  aught  against  my  life?" 

"Life,  no;  liberty,  yes." 

Harold  started,  and  those  strong  passions  native  to  his 
breast,  but  usually  curbed  beneath  his  majestic  will,  heaved 
in  his  bosom,  and  flashed  in  his  eye. 

"  Liberty  ! — let  him  dare  !  Though  all  his  troops  paved 
the  way  from  his  court  to  his  coasts,  I  would  hew  my  way 
through  their  ranks." 

"  Deemest  thou  that  I  am  a  coward  ? "  said  Haco, 
simply  ;  "  yet  contrary  to  all  law  and  justice,  and  against 
King  Edward's  well-known  remonstrance,  hath  not  the 
count  detained  me  years,  yea,  long  years,  in  his  land  ? 
Kind  are  his  words,  wily  his  deeds.  Fear  not  force  ;  fear 
fraud." 

"I  fear  neither,"  answered  Harold,  drawing  himself 
up,  "nor  do  I  repent  me  one  moment  —  No  !  nor  did  I 
repent  in  the  dungeon  of  that  felon  count,  whom  God 
grant  me  life  to  repay  with  fire  and  sword  for  his  treason 
— that  I  myself  have  come  hither  to  demand  my  kinsmen. 
I  come  in  the  name  of  England,  strong  in  her  might,  and 
sacred  in  her  majesty." 

II.  —  6 


62  HAROLD. 

Before  Haco  could  reply,  the  door  opened,  and  Raoul 
de  Tancarville,  as  grand  chamberlain,  entered,  with  all 
Harold's  Saxon  train,  and  a  goodly  number  of  Norman 
squires  and  attendants,  bearing  rich  vestures. 

The  noble  bowed  to  the  earl  with  his  country  s  polished 
courtesy,  and  besought  leave  to  lead  him  to  the  bath, 
while  his  own  squires  prepared  his  raiment  for  the  ban- 
quet to  be  held  in  his  honor.  So  all  further  conference 
with  his  young  kinsmen  was  then  suspended. 

The  duke,  who  affected  a  state  no  less  regal  than  that 
of  the  court  of  France,  permitted  no  one,  save  his  own 
family  and  guests,  to  sit  at  his  own  table.  His  great 
officers  (those  imperious  lords)  stood  beside  his  chair ; 
and  William  Fitzosborne,  "  the  Proud  Spirit,"  placed  on 
the  board  with  his  own  hand  the  dainty  dishes  for  which 
the  Norman  cooks  were  renowned.  And  great  men  were 
those  Norman  cooks ;  and  often  for  some  "  delicate," 
more  ravishing  than  wont,  gold  chain  and  gem,  and  even 
"  bel  maneir,"  fell  to  their  guerdon.*  It  was  worth  being 
a  cook  in  those  days  ! 

The  most  seductive  of  men,  was  William  in  his  fair 
moods ;  and  he  lavished  all  the  witcheries  at  his  control 
upon  his  guest.  If  possible,  yet  more  gracious  was 
Matilda  the  Duchess.  This  woman,  eminent  for  mental 
culture,  for  personal  beauty,  and  for  a  spirit  and  an  am- 
bition no  less  great  than  her  lord's,  knew  well  how  to 

*  A  manor  (but  not,  alas!  in  Normandy)  was  held  by  one  of  his 
cooks,  on  the  tenure  of  supplying  William  with  a  dish  of  dille- 
grout. 


HAROLD.  63 

choose  such  subjects  of  discourse  as  might  most  flatter 
an  English  ear.  Her  connection  with  Harold,  througn 
her  sister's  marriage  with  Tostig,  warranted  a  familiarity 
almost  caressing,  which  she  assumed  towards  the  comely 
earl ;  and  she  insisted,  with  a  winning  smile,  that  all  the 
hours  the  duke  would  leave  at  his  disposal,  he  must  spend 
with  her. 

The  banquet  was  enlivened  by  the  song  of  the  great 
Taillefer  himself,  who  selected  a  theme  that  artfully  flat- 
tered alike  the  Norman  and  the  Saxon,  viz.,  the  aid  given 
by  Rolfganger  to  Athelstan,  and  the  alliance  between  the 
English  king  and  the  Norman  founder.  He  dexterously 
introduced  into  the  song,  praises  of  the  English,  and  the 
value  of  their  friendship  ;  and  the  countess  significantly 
applauded  each  gallant  compliment  to  the  land  of  the 
famous  guest.  If  Harold  was  pleased  by  such  poetic 
courtesies,  he  was  yet  more  surprised  by  the  high  honor 
in  which  duke,  baron,  and  prelate,  evidently  held  the 
poet :  for  it  was  among  the  worst  signs  of  that  sordid 
spirit,  honoring  only  wealth,  which  had  crept  over  the 
original  character  of  the  Anglo-Saxon,  that  the  bard,  or 
scop,  with  them,  had  sunk  into  great  disrepute,  and  it 
was  even  forbidden  to  ecclesiastics  *  to  admit  such  land- 
less vagrants  to  their  company. 

Much,  indeed,  there  was  in  that  court  which,  even  on 
the  first  day,  Harold  saw  to  admire  —  that  stately  tem- 
perance, so  foreign  to  English  excesses  (but  which,  alas, 

*  The  council  of  Cloveshoe  forbade  the  clergy  to  harbor  poets, 
harpers,  musicians,  and  buffoons. 


64  HAROLD. 

the  Norman  kept  not  long  when  removed  to  another  soil) 
—  that  methodical  state  and  noble  pomp  which  charac- 
terized the  Feudal  system,  linking  so  harmoniously  prince 
to  peer,  and  peer  to  knight— the  easy  grace,  the  polished 
wit  of  the  courtiers  —  the  wisdom  of  Lanfranc,  and  the 
higher  ecclesiastics,  blending  worldly  lore  with  decorous, 
not  pedantic,  regard  to  their  sacred  calling  —  the  en- 
lightened love  of  music,  letters,  song,  and  art,  which 
colored  the  discourse  both  of  duke  and  duchess  and  the 
younger  courtiers,  prone  to  emulate  high  example,  whe- 
ther for  ill  or  good  —  all  impressed  Harold  with  a  sense 
of  civilization  and  true  royalty,  which  at  once  saddened 
and  inspired  his  musing  mind  —  saddened  him  when  he 
thought  how  far  behindhand  England  was  in  much,  with 
this  comparatively  petty  principality — inspired  him  when 
he  felt  what  one  great  chief  can  do  for  his  native  land. 

The  unfavorable  impressions  made  upon  his  thoughts 
by  Haco's  warnings,  could  scarcely  fail  to  yield  beneath 
the  prodigal  courtesies  lavished  upon  him,  and  the  frank 
openness  with  which  William  laughingly  excused  himself 
for  having  so  long  detained  the  hostages,  "  in  order,  my 
guest,  to  make  thee  come  and  fetch  them  ;  and,  by  St. 
Yalery,  now  thou  art  here,  thou  shalt  not  depart,  till,  at 
least,  thou  hast  lost  in  gentler  memories,  the  recollection 
of  the  scurvy  treatment  thou  hast  met  from  that  barbar- 
ous count;  nay,  never  bite  thy  lip,  Harold,  my  friend, 
leave  to  me  thy  revenge  upon  Guy.  Sooner  or  later, 
the  very  maneir  he  hath  extorted  from  me  shall  give  ex- 
cuse for  sword  and  lance,  and  then,  pardex,  thou  shalt 


HAROLD.  65 

come  and  cross  steel  in  thine  own  quarrel.  How  I  rejoice 
that  I  can  show  to  the  beau  fr ere  of  my  dear  cousin  and 
seigneur  some  return  for  all  the  courtesies  the  English 
king  and  kingdom  bestowed  upon  me  !  To-morrow  we 
will  ride  to  Rouen  ;  there,  all  knightly  sports  shall  be 
held  to  grace  thy  coming  ;  and,  by  St.  Michael,  knight- 
saint  of  the  Norman,  nought  less  will  content  me  than  to 
have  thy  great  name  in  the  list  of  my  chosen  chevaliers. 
But  the  night  wears  now,  and  thou  sure  must  need  sleep  ;" 
and,  thus  talking,  the  duke  himself  led  the  way  to  Ha- 
rold's chamber,  and  insisted  on  removing  the  ouche  from 
his  robe  of  state.  As  he  did  so,  he  passed  his  hand,  as 
if  carelessly,  along  the  earl's  right  arm.  "  Ha  !  "  said 
he  suddenly,  and  in  his  natural  tone  of  voice,  which  was 
short  and  quick,  "  these  muscles  have  known  practice  ! 
Post  think  thou  couldst  bend  my  bow  ?  " 

"  Who  could  bend  that  of —  Ulysses  ?  "  returned  the 
earl,  fixing  his  deep-blue  eye  upon  the  Norman's.  Wil- 
liam unconsciously  changed  color,  for  he  felt  that  he  was 
at  that  moment  more  Ulysses  than  Achilles. 


CHAPTER   III. 

Side  by  side,  William  and  Harold  entered  the  fair  city 

of  Rouen,  and  there,  a  succession  of  the  brilliant  pageants 

and    knightly  entertainments    (comprising    those   "  rare 

feats  of  honor,"  expanded,  with  the  following  age,  into 

6  *  2d 


66  HAROLD. 

the  more  gorgeous  display  of  joust  and  tourney),  was 
designed  to  dazzle  the  eyes  and  captivate  the  fancy  of 
the  earl.  But  though  Harold  won,  even  by  tne  confession 
of  the  chronicles  most  in  favor  of  the  Norman,  golden 
opinions  in  a  court  more  ready  to  deride  than  admire  the 
Saxon — though  not  only  the  '*  strength  of  his  body,"  and 
"the  boldness  of  his  spirit,"  as  shown  in  exhibitions 
unfamiliar  to  Saxon  warriors,  but  his  "  manners,"  his 
"  eloquence,  intellect,  and  other  good  qualities,"*  were 
loftily  conspicuous  amidst  those  knightly  courtiers,  that 
sublimer  part  of  his  character,  which  was  found  in  its 
simple  manhood  and  intense  nationality,  kept  him  un- 
moved and  serene  amidst  all  intended  to  exercise  that 
fatal  spell  which  Normanized  most  of  those  who  came 
within  the  circle  of  Norman  attraction. 

These  festivities  were  relieved  by  pompous  excursions 
and  progresses  from  town  to  town,  and  fort  to  fort, 
throughout  the  duchy,  and,  according  to  some  authori- 
ties, even  to  a  visit  to  Philip,  the  French  king,  at  Com- 
peigne.  On  the  return  to  Rouen,  Harold,  and  the  six 
thegns  of  his  train,  were  solemnly  admitted  into  that 
peculiar  band  of  warlike  brothers  which  William  had 
instituted,  and  to  which,  following  the  chronicles  of  the 
after  century,  we  have  given  the  name  of  knights.  The 
silver  baldrick  was  belted  on,  and  the  iance,  with  its 
pointed  banderol,  was  placed  in  the  hand,  and  the  seven 
Saxon  lords  became  Norman  knights. 

*  Ord.  Vital. 


HAROLD.  67 

The  evening  after  this  ceremonial,  Harold  was  with, 
the  duchess  and  her  fair  daughters  —  all  children.  The 
beauty  of  one  of  the  girls  drew,  from  him  those  compli- 
ments so  sweet  to  a  mother's  ear.  Matilda  looked  up 
from  the  broidery  on  which  she  was  engaged,  and 
beckoned  to  her  the  child  thus  praised. 

"Adeliza,"  she  said,  placing  her  hand  on  the  girl's 
dark  locks,  "  though  we  would  not  that  thou  shouldst 
learn  too  early  how  men's  tongues  can  gloze  and  flatter, 
yet  this  noble  guest  hath  so  high  a  repute  for  truth,  that 
thou  mayest  at  least  believe  him  sincere  when  he  says 
thy  face  is  fair.  Think  of  it,  and  with  pride,  my  child  ; 
let  it  keep  thee  through  youth  proof  against  the  homage 
of  meaner  men  ;  and,  peradventure,  St.  Michael  and  St. 
Yalery  may  bestow  on  thee  a  mate  valiant  and  comely  as 
this  noble  lord." 

The  child  blushed  to  her  brow ;  but  answered  with  the 
quickness  of  a  spoiled  infant  —  unless,  perhaps,  she  bad 
been  previously  tutored  so  to  reply,  —  "  Sweet  mother,  I 
will  have  no  mate  and  no  lord  but  Harold  himself;  and 
if  he  will  not  have  Adeliza  as  his  wife,  she  will  die  a 
nun." 

"  Froward  child,  it  is  not  for  thee  to  woo  ! "  said  Ma- 
tilda, smiling.  "  Thon  heardest  her,  noble  Harold  :  what 
is  thine  answer  ?  " 

"  That  she  will  grow  wiser,"  said  the  earl,  laughing,  as 
he  kissed  the  child's  forehead.  "  Fair  damsel,  ere  thou 
art  ripe  for  the  altar,  time  will  have  sown  grey  in  these 


68  HAROLD. 

4ocks  ;  and  thou  wouldst  smile  indeed  in  scorn,  if  Harold 
then  claimed  thy  troth. " 

"  Not  so,"  said  Matilda,,  seriously  ;  "  high-born  dam- 
sels see  youth  not  in  years  but  in  fame  —  fame,  which  is 
young  for  ever  !  " 

Startled  by  the  gravity  with  which  Matilda  spoke,  as 
if  to  give  importance  to  what  had  seemed  a  jest,  the  earl, 
versed  in  courts,  felt  that  a  snare  was  round  him,  and 
replied,  in  a  tone  between  jest  and  earnest :  —  "  Happy 
am  I  to  wear  on  my  heart  a  charm  proof  against  all  the 
beauty  even  of  this  court." 

Matilda's  face  darkened  ;  and  William  entering  at  that 
time  with  his  usual  abruptness,  lord  and  lady  exchanged 
glances,  not  unobserved  by  Harold. 

The  duke,  however,  drew  aside  the  Saxon,  and  saying, 
gaily,  "  We  Normans  are  not  naturally  jealous  ;  but  then, 
till  now,  we  have  not  had  Saxon  gallants  closeted  with 
our  wives  ;  "  added  more  seriously,  "  Harold,  I  have  a 
grace  to  pray  at  thy  hands  —  come  with  me." 

The  earl  followed  William  into  his  chamber,  which  he 
found  filled  with  chiefs,  in  high  converse  ;  and  William 
then  hastened  to  inform  him  that  he  was  about  to  make 
a  military  expedition  against  the  Bretons  ;  and  knowing 
his  peculiar  acquaintance  with  the  warfare,  as  with  the 
language  and  manners,  of  their  kindred  Welch,  he  be- 
sought his  aid  in  a  campaign,  which  he  promised  him 
should  be  brief. 

Perhaps  the  earl  was  not,  in  his  own  mind,  averse 
from  returning  William's  display  of  power  by  some  evi- 


HAROLD.  69 

dence  of  his  own  military  skill,  and  the  valor  of  the 
Saxon  thegns  in  his  train.  There  might  be  prudence  in 
such  exhibition,  and,  at  all  events,  he  could  not  with  a 
good  grace  decline  the  proposal.  He  enchanted  William, 
therefore,  by  a  simple  acquiescence  ;  and  the  rest  of  the 
evening — deep  into  night — was  spent  in  examining  clwts 
of  the  fort  and  country  intended  to  be  attacked. 

The  conduct  and  courage  of  Harold  and  his  Saxons 
in  this  expedition  are  recorded  by  the  Norman  chroni- 
clers. The  earl's  personal  exertions  saved,  at  the  passage 
of  Coesnon,  a  detachment  of  soldiers,  who  would  other- 
wise have  perished  in  the  quicksands :  and  even  the 
warlike  skill  of  William,  in  the  brief  and  brilliant  cam- 
paign, was,  if  not  eclipsed,  certainly  equalled,  by  that  of 
the  Saxon  chief. 

While  the  campaign  lasted,  William  and  Harold  had 
but  one  table  and  one  tent.  To  outward  appearance,  the 
familiarity  between  the  two  was  that  of  brothers ;  in 
reality,  however,  these  two  men,  both  so  able  —  one  so 
deep  in  his  guile,  the  other  so  wise  in  his  tranquil  caution 
■ —  felt  that  a  silent  war  between  the  two  for  mastery  was 
working  on,  under  the  guise  of  loving  peace. 

Already  Harold  was  conscious  that  the  politic  motives 
for  his  mission  had  failed  him  ;  already  he  perceived, 
thoagh  he  scarce  knew  why,  that  William  the  Norman 
was  the  last  man  to  whom  he  could  confide  his  ambition, 
or  trust  for  aid. 

One  day,  as  during  a  short  truce  with  the  defenders 
of  the  place  they  were  besieging,  the  Normans  were 


70  HAROLD. 

diverting  their  leisure  with  martial  games,  in  which 
Taillefer  shone  pre-eminent;  while  Harold  and  William 
stood  without  their  tent,  watching  the  animated  field, 
the  duke  abruptly  exclaimed,  to  Mallet  de  Graville, 
"Bring  me  my  bow.  Now,  Harold,  let  me  see  if  thou 
canst  bend  it." 

The  bow  was  brought,  and  Saxon  and  Norman  gathered 
round  the  spot. 

"  Fasten  thy  glove  to  yonder  tree,  Mallet,"  said  the 
duke,  taking  that  mighty  bow  in  his  hand,  and  bending 
its  stubborn  yew  into  the  noose  of  the  string  with  prac- 
tised ease. 

Then  he  drew  the  arc  to  his  ear ;  and  the  tree  itself 
seemed  to  shake  at  the  shock,  as  the  shaft,' piercing  the 
glove,  lodged  half-way  in  the  trunk. 

"  Such  are  not  our  weapons/'  said  the  earl;  "and  ill 
would  it  become  me,  unpractised,  so  to  peril  our  English 
honor,  as  to  strive  against  the  arm  that  could  bend  that 
arc  and  wing  that  arrow.  But,  that  I  may  show  these 
Norman  knights,  that  at  least  we  have  some  weapon 
wherewith  we  can  parry  shaft  and  smite  assailer  —  bring 
me  forth,  Godrith,  my  shield  and  my  Danish  axe." 

Taking  the  shield  and  axe  which  the  Saxon  brought 
to  him,  Harold  then  stationed  himself  before  the  tree. 

"Now,  fair  duke,"  said  he,  smiling,  "choose  thou  thy 
longest  shaft  —  bid  thy  ten  doughtiest  archers  take  their 
bows  ;  round  this  tree  will  I  move,  and  let  each  shaft  be 
aimed  at  whatever  space  in  my  mailless  body  I  lea^ 
unguarded  by  my  shield." 


HAROLD.  11 

"No  !"  said  William,  hastily  ;   "  that  were  murder." 

"  It  is  but  the  common  peril  of  war,"  said  Harold, 
simply ;  and  he  walked  to  the  -tree. 

The  blood  mounted  to  William's  brow,  and  the  lion's 
thirst  of  carnage  parched  his  throat. 

"An*  he  will  have  it  so,"  said  he,  beckoning  to  his 
archers,  "let  not  Normandy  be  shamed.  Watch  well, 
and  let  every  shaft  go  home  ;  avoid  only  the  head  and 
the  heart ;  such  orgulous  vaunting  is  best  cured  by  blood- 
letting." 

The  archers  nodded,  and  took  their  post,  each  at  a 
separate  quarter ;  and  deadly,  indeed,  seemed  the  danger 
of  the  earl,  for,  as  he  moved,  though  he  kept  his  back 
guarded  by  the  tree,  some  parts  of  his  form  the  sh'eld 
left  exposed,  and  it  would  have  been  impossible,  in  his 
quick-shifting  movements,  for  the  archers  so  to  aim  as  to 
wound,  but  to  spare  life ;  yet  the  earl  seemed  to  take  no 
peculiar  care  to  avoid  the  peril ;  lifting  his  bare  h^ad 
fearlessly  above  the  shield,  and  including  in  one  gaze  of 
his  steadfast  eye,  calmly  bright  even  at  the  distance,  all 
the  shafts  of  the  archers. 

At  one  moment,  five  of  the  arrows  hissed  through  the 
air,  and  with  such  wonderful  quickness  had  the  shield 
turned  to  each,  that  three  fell  to  the  ground  blunted 
against  it,  and  two  broke  on  its  surface. 

But  William,  waiting  for  the  first  discharge,  and  seeing 
full  mark  at  Harold's  shoulder,  as  the  buckler  turned, 
now  sent  forth  his  terrible  shaft.  The  noble  Taillefer, 
with  a  poet's  true  sympathy,  cried,  "  Saxon,  beware  ! " 


72  HAROLD. 

but  the  watchful  Saxon  needed  not  the  warning.  As  if  in 
disdain,  Harold  met  not  the  shaft  with  his  shield,  but 
swinging  high  the  mighty  axe  (which  with  most  men 
required  both  arms  to  wield  it),  he  advanced  a  step,  and 
clove  the  rushing  arrow  in  twain ! 

Before  William's  loud  oath  of  wrath  and  surprise  left 
his  lips,  the  five  shafts  of  the  remaining  archers  fell  as 
vainly  as  their  predecessors  against  the  nimble  shield. 

Then  advancing,  Harold  said  cheerfully  :  —  "  This  is 
but  defence,  fair  duke  —  and  little  worth  were  the  axe,  if 
it  could  not  smite  as  well  as  ward.  Wherefore,  I  pray 
you,  place  upon  yonder  broken  stone  pillar,  which  seems 
some  relic  of  Druid  heathenesse,  such  helm  and  shirt  of 
mail  as  thou  deemest  proof  against  sword  and  pertuizan, 
and  judge  then  if  our  English  axe  can  guard  well  our 
English  land." 

"  If  thy  axe  can  oleave  the  helmet  I  wore  at  Bavent, 
when  the  Franks  and  their  king  fled  before  me,"  said  the 
duke,  grimly,  "  I  shall  hold  Caesar  in  fault,  not  to  have 
invented  a  weapon  so  dread." 

And  striding  back  into  his  pavilion,  he  came  forth  with 
the  helm  and  shirt  of  mail,  which  was  worn  stronger  and 
heavier  by  the  Normans,  as  fighting  usually  on  horse- 
back, than  by  Dane  and  Saxon,  who#  mainly  fighting  on 
foot,  could  not  have  endured  so  cumbrous  a  burthen  :  and 
if  strong  and  dour  generally  with  the  Norman,  judge 
what  solid  weight  that  mighty  duke  could  endure  !  With 
his  own  hand  William  placed  the  mail  on  the  ruined 
Druid  stone,  and  on  the  mail  the  helm. 


HAROLD.  T3 

Harold  looked  long  and  gravely  at  the  edge  of  the 
axe  ;  it  was  so  richly  gilt  and  damasquined,  that  the 
sharpness  of  its  temper  could  not  well  have  been  divined 
under  that  holiday  glitter.  But  this  axe  had  come  to 
him  from  Canute  the  Great,  who  himself,  unlike  the 
Danes,  small  and  slight,*  had  supplied  his  deficiency  of 
muscle  by  the  finest  dexterity  and  the  most  perfect 
weapons.  Famous  had  been  that  axe  in  the  delicate 
hand  of  Canute  —  how  much  more  tremendous  in  the 
ample  grasp  of  Harold  !  Swinging  now  in  both  hands 
this  weapon,  with  a  peculiar  and  rapid  whirl,  which  gave 
it  an  inconceivable  impetus,  the  earl  let  fall  the  crushing 
blow :  at  the  first  stroke,  cut  right  in  the  centre,  rolled 
the  helm  ;  at  the  second,  through  all  the  woven  mail 
(cleft  asunder,  as  if  the  slightest  filagree-work  of  the 
goldsmith),  shore  the  blade,  and  a  great  fragment  of  the 
stone  itself  came  tumbling  on  the  sod. 

The  Normans  stood  aghast,  and  William's  face  was  as 
pale  as  the  shattered  stone.  The  great  duke  felt  even 
his  matchless  dissimulation  fail  him ;  nor,  unused  to  the 
special  practice  and  craft  which  the  axe  required,  could 
he  have  pretended,  despite  a  physical  strength  superior 
even  to  Harold's,  to  rival  blows  that  seemed  to  him  more 
than  mortal. 

"  Lives  there  any  other  man  in  the  wide  world  whose 
arm  could  have  wrought  that  feat  ? "  exclaimed  Bruse, 
the  ancestor  of  the  famous  Scot. 

*  Canute  made  his  inferior  strength  and  stature  his  excuse  for 
not  meeting  Edward  Ironsides  in  single  combat. 

II  —7 


74  HAROLD. 

"  Nay,"  said  Harold,  simply,  "  at  least  thirty  thousand 
such  men  have  I  left  at  home  !  But  this  was  but  the 
stroke  of  an  idle  vanity,  and  strength  becomes  tenfold  in 
a  good  cause." 

The  duke  heard,  and  fearful  lest  he  should  betray  his 
sense  of  the  latent  meaning  couched  under  his  guest's 
words,  he  hastily  muttered  forth  reluctant  compliment 
and  praise ;  while  Fitzosborne,  De  Bohun,  and  other 
chiefs  more  genuinely  knightly,  gave  way  to  unrestrained 
admiration. 

Then  beckoning  De  Graville  to  follow  him,  the  duke 
strode  off  towards  the  tent  of  his  brother  of  Bayeux,  who, 
though,  except  on  extraordinary  occasions,  he  did  not 
join  in  positive  conflict,  usually  accompanied  William  in 
his  military  excursions,  both  to  bless  the  host,  and  to 
advise  (for  his  martial  science  was  considerable)  the 
council  of  war. 

The  bishop,  who,  despite  the  sanctimony  of  the  court, 
and  his  own  stern  nature,  was  (though  secretly  and  de- 
corously) a  gallant  of  great  success  in  other  fields  than 
those  of  Mars,*  sate  alone  in  his  pavilion,  inditing  an 
epistle  to  a  certain  fair  dame  in  Rouen,  whom  he  had 
unwillingly  left  to  follow  his  brother.  At  the  entrance 
of  William,  whose  morals  in  such  matters  were  pure  and 

*  O.lo's  licentiousness  was,  at  a  later  period,  one  of  the  alleged 
causes  of  his  downfall,  or  rather,  against  his  release  from  the 
prison  to  which  he  had  been  consigned.  He  had  a  son  named 
John,  who  distinguished  himself  under  Henry  I.  —  Ord.  Vital, 
lib.  iv. 


HAROLD.  75 

rigid,  he  swept  the  letter  into  the  chest  of  relics  which 
always  accompanied  him,  and  rose,  saying  indifferently, — 

"  A  treatise  on  the  authenticity  of  St.  Thomas's  little 
finger  !     But  what  ails  you  ?  you  are  disturbed  !  " 

"  Odo,  Odo,  this  man  baffles  me  —  this  man  fools  me  ;  I 
make  no  ground  with  him.  I  have  spent — heaven  knows 
what  I  have  spent,"  said  the  duke,  sighing  with  penitent 
parsimony,  "in  banquets,  and  ceremonies,  and  proces- 
sions; to  say  nothing  of  my  bel  manier  of  Yonne,  and  the 
sum  wrung  from  my  coffers  by  that  greedy  Ponthevin. 
All  gone  —  all  wasted  —  all  melted  like  snow!  and  the 
Saxon  is  as  Saxon  as  if  he  had  seen  neither  Norman 
splendor,  nor  been  released  from  the  danger  by  Norman 
treasure.  But,  by  the  Splendor  Divine,  I  were  fool  in- 
deed if  I  suffered  him  to  return  home.  Would  thou  hadst 
seen  the  sorcerer  cleave  my  helmet  and  mail  just  now, 
as  easily  as  if  they  had  been  willow  twigs.  Oh,  Odo,  Odo, 
my  soul  is  troubled,  and  St.  Michael  forsakes  me  ! " 

While  William,  ran  on  thus  distractedly,  the  prelate 
lifted  his  eyes  inquiringly  to  De  Graville,  who  now  stood 
within  the  tent,  and  the  knight  briefly  related  the  recent 
trial  of  strength. 

"I  see  nought  in  this  to  chafe  thee,"  said  Odo ;  "the 
man  once  thine,  the  stronger  the  vassal,  the  more  power- 
ful the  lord." 

"  But  he  is  not  mine  ;  I  have  sounded  him  as  far  as  I 
dare  go.  Matilda  hath  almost  openly  offered  him  my 
fairest  child  as  his  wife.  Nothing  dazzles,  nothing  moves 
him.     Thinkest  thou  I  care  for  his  strong  arm  ?     Tut, 


76  HAROLD. 

no  :  I  chafe  at  the  proud  heart  that  set  the  arm  in  motion, 
the  proud  meaning  his  words  symbolled  out,  —  'So  will 
English  strength  guard  English  land  from  the  Norman 
—  so  axe  and  shield  will  defy  your  mail  and  your 
shafts.'    But  let  him  beware  ! "  growled  the  duke  fiercely 


"May  I  speak,"  interrupted  De  Graville,  "and  suggest 
a  counsel  ?  " 

"  Speak  out,  in  God's  name  ! "  cried  the  duke. 

"  Then  I  should  say,  with  submission,  that  the  way  to 
tame  a  lion  is  not  by  gorging  him,  but  daunting.  Bold 
is  the  lion  against  open  foes ;  but  a  lion  in  the  toils  loses 
his  nature.  Just  now,  my  lord  said  that  Harold  should 
not  return  to  his  native  land " 

"  Nor  shall  he,  but  as  my  sworn  man  ! "  exclaimed  the 
duke. 

"And  if  you  now  put  to  him  that  choice,  think  you  it 
will  favor  your  views  ?  Will  he  not  reject  your  proffers, 
and  with  hot  scorn  ?  " 

"  Scorn  !  darest  thou  that  word  to  me  ? "  cried  the 
duke.  "  Scorn !  have  I  no  headsman  whose  axe  is  as 
sharp  as  Harold's  ?  and  the  neck  of  a  captive  is  not 
sheathed  in  my  Norman  mail." 

"  Pardon,  pardon,  my  liege,"  said  Mallet,  with  spirit ; 
il  but  to  save  my  chief  from  a  hasty  action  that  might 
bring  long  remorse,  I  spoke  thus  boldly.  Give  the  earl 
at  least  fair  warning  :  —  a  prison,  or  fealty  to  thee,  that 
is  the  choice  before  him  !  —  let  him  know  it;  let  him  see 
that  thy  dungeons  are  dark,  and  thy  walls  impassable. 


HAROLD.  ?! 

Threaten  not  his  life  —  brave  men  care  not  for  that !  — 
threaten  thyself  nought,  but  let  others  work  upon  him 
with  fear  of  his  freedom.  I  know  well  these  Saxish  men  ; 
I  know  well  Harold ;  freedom  is  their  passion,  they  are 
cowards  when  threatened  with  the  doom  of  four  walls."  * 

"I  conceive  thee,  wise  son,"  exclaimed  Odo. 

"  Ha  !  "  said  the  duke,  slowly  ;  "  and  yet  it  was  to  pre* 
vent  such  suspicions  that  I  took  care,  after ''the  first 
meeting,  to  separate  him  from  Haco  and  Wolnoth,  for 
they  must  have  learned  much  in  Norman  gossip,  ill  to 
repeat  to  the  Saxon." 

"  Wolnoth  is  almost  wholly  Norman,"  said  the  bishop, 
smiling ;  "  Wolnoth  is  bound  par  amours  to  a  certain 
fair  Norman  dame  ;  and,  I  trow  well,  prefers  her  charms 
here  to  the  thought  of  his  return.  But  Haco,  as  thou 
knowest,  is  sullen  and  watchful." 

"  So  much  the  better  companion  for  Harold  now,"  said 
De  Graville. 

"  I  am  fated  ever  to  plot  and  to  scheme  ! "  said  the 
duke,  groaning,  as  if  he  had  been  the  simplest  of  men ; 
V  but,  natheless,  I  love  the  stout  earl,  and  I  mean  all  for 
his  own  good,  —  that  is,  compatibly  with  my  rights  and 
claims  to  the  heritage  of  Edward  my  cousin." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  bishop. 

*  William  of  Poitiers,  the  contemporary  Norman  chronicler,  saya 
of  Harold,  that  he  was  a  man  to  whom  imprisonment  was  more 
odious  than  shipwreck. 


78  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

The  snares  now  spread  for  Harold  were  in  pursuance 
of  the  policy  thus  resolved  on.  The  camp  soon  after- 
wards broke  up,  and  the  troops  took  their  way  to  Bayeux. 
William,  without  greatly  altering  his  manner  towards  the 
earl,  evaded  markedly  (or  as  markedly  replied  not  to) 
Harold's  plain  declarations,  that  his  presence  was  re- 
quired in  England,  and  that  he  could  no  longer  defer  his 
departure ;  while,  under  pretence  of  being  busied  with 
affairs,  he  absented  himself  much  from  the  earl's  com- 
pany, or  refrained  from  seeing  him  alone,  and  suffered 
Mallet  de  G-raville,  and  Odo  the  bishop,  to  supply  his 
place  with  Harold.  The  earl's  suspicions  now  became 
thoroughly  aroused,  and  these  were  fed  both  by  the  hints, 
kindly  meant,  of  De  Graville,  and  the  less  covert  discourse 
of  the  prelate  :  while  Mallet  let  drop,  as  in  gossiping 
illustration  of  William's  fierce  and  vindictive  nature,  many 
anecdotes  of  that  cruelty  which  really  stained  the  Nor- 
man^ character,  Odo,  more  bluntly,  appeared  to  take  it 
for  granted  that  Harold's  sojourn  in  the  land  would  be 
long. 

"You  will  have  time,"  said  he,  one  day,  as  they  rode 
together,  "  to  assist  me,  I  trust,  in  learning  the  language 
of    our   forefathers.     Danish   is   still   spoken    much    at 


HAROLD.  79 

Bayeux,  the  sole  place  in  Neustria,*  where  the  old  tongue 
and  customs  still  linger ;  and  it  would  serve  my  pastoral 
ministry  to  receive  your  lessons ;  in  a  year  or  so,  I  might 
hope  so  to  profit  by  them  as  to  discourse  freely  with  the 
less  Frankish  part  of  my  flock." 

"  Surely,  Lord  Bishop,  you  jest,"  said  Harold,  se- 
riously ;  "  you  know  well  that  within  a  week,  at  farthest, 
I  must  sail  back  for  England  with  my  young  kinsmen." 

The  prelate  laughed. 

"I  advise  you,  dear  count  and  son,  to  be  cautious  how 
you  speak  so  plainly  to  William.  I  perceive  that  you 
have  already  ruffled  him  by  such  indiscreet  remarks  ;  and 
you  must  have  seen  eno'  of  the  duke  to  know  that,  when 
his  ire  is  up,  his  answers  are  short  but  his  arms  are  long." 

"Yon  most  grievously  wrong  Duke  William,"  cried 
Harold,  indignantly,  "to  suppose,  merely  in  that  playful 
humor,  for  which  ye  Normans  are  famous,  that  he  could 
lay  force  on  his  confiding  guest." 

"  No,  not  a  confiding  guest,  —  a  ransomed  captive. 
Surely  my  brother  will  deem  that  he  has  purchased  of 
Count  Guy  his  rights  over  his  illustrious  prisoner.  But 
courage  !  The  Norman  Court  is  not  the  Ponthevin  dun- 
geon ;  and  your  chains,  at  least,  are  roses." 

The  reply  of  wrath  and  defiance  that  rose  to  Harold's 

*  In  the  environs  of  Bayeux  still  may  perhaps  linger  the  sole 
remains  of  the  Scandinavian  Normans,  apart  from  the  gentry.  For 
centuries  the  inhabitants  of  Bayeux  and  its  vicinity  were  a  class 
distinct  from  the  Franco-Normans,  or  the  rest  of  Neustria ;  they 
submitted  with  great  reluctance  to  the  ducal  authority,  and  re 
tained  their  old  heathen  cry  of  Thor-aide,  instead  of  Dieu-aide! 


80  HAROLD. 

lips,  was  checked  by  a  sign  from  De  Graville,  who  raised 
his  finger  to  his  lip  with  a  face  expressive  of  caution  and 
alarm  ;  and,  some  little  time  after,  as  they  halted  to  water 
their  horses,  De  Graville  came  up  to  him  and  said  in  a 
low  voice,  and  in  Saxon  — 

"  BeM  are  how  you  speak  too  frankly  to  Odo.  What  is 
said  to  him  is  said  to  William  ;  and  the  duke,  at  times,  so 
acts  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  that  —  But  let  me  not 
wrong  him,  or  needlessly  alarm  you." 

"  Sire  de  Graville,'7  said  Harold,  "  this  is  not  the  first 
time  that  the  Prelate  of  Bayeux  hath  hinted  at  compul- 
sion, nor  that  you  (no  doubt  kindly)  have  warned  me  of 
purpose  hostile  or  fraudful.  As  plain  man  to  plain  man, 
I  ask  you,  on  your  knightly  honor,  to  tell  me  if  you 
know  aught  to  make  you  believe  that  William  the  Duke 
will,  under  any  pretext,  detain  me  here  a  captive  ?" 

Now,  though  Mallet  de  Graville  had  lent  himself  to 
the  service  of  an  ignoble  craft,  he  justified  it  by  a  better 
reason  than  complaisance  to  his  lord ;  for,  knowing 
William  well,  his  hasty  ire,  and  his  relentless  ambition, 
he  was  really  alarmed  for  Harold's  safety.  And,  as  the 
reader  may  have  noted,  in  suggesting  that  policy  of  inti- 
midation, the  knight  had  designed  to  give  the  earl  at 
le&st  the  benefit  of  forewarning.  So,  thus  adjured,  De 
Graville  replied  sincerely  — 

"Earl  Harold,  on  my  honor  as  your  brother  in  knight- 
hood, I  answer  your  plain  question.  I  have  cause  to 
believe  and  to  know  that  William  will  not  suffer  you  to 


HAROLD.  81 

depart,  unless  fully  satisfied  on  certain  points,  which  he 
himself  will,  doubtless,  ere  long  make  clear  to  you." 

"And  if  I  insist  on  my  departure,  not  so  satisfying 
him?" 

"  Every  castle  on  our  road  hath  a  dungeon  as  deep  as 
Count  Guy's  ;  but  where  another  William  to  deliver  you 
from  William  ?  " 

"  Over  yon  seas,  a  prince  mightier  than  William,  and 
men  as  resolute,  at  least,  as  your  Normans." 

"Cher  et  puissant,  my  Lord  Earl,"  answered  De  Gra- 
ville,  "  these  are  brave  words,  but  of  no  weight  in  the  ear 
of  a  schemer  so  deep  as  the  duke.  Think  you  really,  that 
King  Edward — pardon  my  bluntness — would  rouse  him- 
self from  his  apathy,  to  do  more  in  your  behalf  than  he 
has  done  in  your  kinsmen's  —  remonstrate  and  preach  ? 
. — Are  you  even  sure  that  on  the  representation  of  a  man 
he  hath  so  loved  as  William,  he  will  not  be  content  to 
rid  his  throne  of  so  formidable  a  subject  ?  You  speak 
of  the  English  people  ;  doubtless  you  are  popular  and 
beloved  ;  but  it  is  the  habit  of  no  people,  least  of  all  your 
own,  to  stir  actively  and  in  concert,  without  leaders. 
The  duke  knows  the  factions  of  England  as  well  as  you 
do.  .Remember  how  closely  he  is  connected  with  Tostig, 
your  ambitious  brother.  Have  you  no  fear  that  Tostig 
himself,  earl  of  the  most  warlike  part  of  the  kingdom, 
will  not  only  do  his  best  to  check  the  popular  feeling  in 
your  favor,  but  foment  every  intrigue  to  detain  you  here, 
and  leave  himself  the  first  noble  in  the  land  ?  As  for 
other  leaders,  save  Gurth  (who  is  but  your  own  vice-earl), 
7*  2e 


82  HAROLD. 

who  is  there  that  will  not  rejoice  at  the  absence  of 
Harold  ?  You  have  made  foes  of  the  only  family  that 
approaches  the  power  of  your  own  —  the  heirs  of  Leofric 
and  Algar.  —  Your  strong  hand  removed  from  the  reins 
of  the  empire,  tumults  and  dissensions  ere  long  will  break 
forth  that  will  distract  men's  minds  from  an  absent  cap- 
tive, and  centre  them  on  the  safety  of  their  own  hearths, 
or  the  advancement  of  their  own  interests.  You  see  that 
I  know  something  of  the  state  of  your  native  land ;  but 
deem  not  my  own  observation,  though  not  idle,  sufficed 
to  bestow  that  knowledge.  I  learn  it  more  from  William's 
discourses ;  William,  who  from  Flanders,  from  Boulogne, 
from  England  itself,  by  a  thousand  channels,  hears  all 
that  passes  between  the  cliffs  of  Dover  and  the  marches 
of  Scotland." 

Harold  paused  long  before  he  replied,  for  his  mind 
was  now  thoroughly  awakened  to  his  danger ;  and,  while 
recognizing  the  wisdom  and  intimate  acquaintance  of 
affairs  with  which  De  Graville  spoke,  he  was  also  rapidly 
revolving  the  best  course  for  himself  to  pursue  in  such 
extremes.     At  length  he  said  — 

"  I  pass  by  your  remarks  on  the  state  of  England,  with 
but  one  comment.  You  underrate  Gurth,  my  brother, 
when  you  speak  of  him  but  as  the  vice-earl  of  Harold. 
You  underrate  one,  who  needs  but  an  object,  to  excel  in 
arms  and  in  council,  my  father  Godwin  himself. — That 
object  a  brother's  wrongs  would  create  from  a  brother's 
lov^.,  and  three  hundred  ships  would  sail  up  the  Seine  to 


HAROLD.  83 

demand  your  captive,  manned  by  warriors  as  hardy  as 
those  who  wrested  Neustria  from  King  Charles." 

"  Granted,"  said  de  Graville.  "But  William,  who 
could  cut  off  the  hands  and  feet  of  his  own  subjects  for  an 
idle  jest  on  his  birth,  could  as  easily  put  out  the  eyes  of 
a  captive  foe.  And  of  what  worth  are  the  ablest  brain, 
and  the  stoutest  arm,  when  the  man  is  dependent  on 
another  for  very  sight?" 

Harold  involuntarily  shuddered  ;  but  recovering  him- 
self on  the  instant,  he  replied,  with  a  smile  — 

"  Thou  makest  thy  duke  a  butcher  more  fell  than  his 
ancestor  Rolfganger.  But  thou  saidst  he  needed  but  to 
be  satisfied  on  certain  points.     What  are  they  ?  " 

11  Ah,  that  thou  must  divine,  or  he  unfold.  But  see, 
William  himself  approaches  you." 

And  here,  the  duke,  who  had  been  till  then  in  the  rear, 
spurred  up  with  courteous  excuses  to  Harold  for  his  long 
defection  from  his  side ;  and,  as  they  resumed  their  way, 
talked  with  all  his  former  frankness  and  gaiety. 

"  By  the  way,  dear  brother  in  arms,"  said  he,  "  I  have 
provided  thee  this  evening  with  comrades  more  welcome, 
I  fear,  than  myself — Haco  and  Wolnoth.  That  last  is  a 
youth  whom  I  love  dearly  :  the  first  is  unsocial  eno',  and 
methinks  would  make  a  better  hermit  than  soldier.  But, 
by  St.  Yalery,  I  forgot  to  tell  thee  that  an  envoy  from 
Flanders  to-day,  amongst  other  news,  brought  me  some 
that  may  interest  thee.  There  is  a  strong  commotion  in 
thy  brother  Tostig's  Northumbrian  earldom,  and  the 
rumor  runs,  that  his  fierce  yassals  will  drive  him  forth  and 


84  HAROLD. 

select  some  other  lord  :  talk  was  of  the  sons  of  Algar  —  • 
so  I  think  ye  called  the  stout  dead  earl.  This  looks 
grave,  for  my  dear  cousin  Edward's  health  is  failing  fast. 
May  the  saints  spare  him  long  from  their  rest  1 " 

"  These  are  indeed  ill  tidings,"  said  the  earl ;  "  and  I 
trust  that  they  suffice  to  plead  at  once  my  excuse  for 
urging  my  immediate  departure.  Grateful  I  am  for  thy 
most  gracious  hostship,  and  thy  just  and  generous  inter- 
cession with  thy  liegeman  V  (Harold  dwelt  emphatically 
on  the  last  word),  "  for  my  release  from  a  capture  dis- 
graceful to  all  Christendom.  The  ransom  so  nobly  paid 
for  me  I  will  not  insult  thee,  dear  my  lord,  by  affecting 
to  repay  ;  but  such  gifts  as  our  cheapmen  hold  most  rare, 
perchance  thy  lady  and  thy  fair  children  will  deign  to 
receive  at  my  hands.  Now  may  I  ask  but  a  vessel  from 
thy  nearest  port  ?  " 

11  We  will  talk  of  this,  dear  guest  and  brother  knight, 
on  some  later  occasion.  Lo,  yon  castle  —  ye  have  no 
such  in  England.     See  its  vawmures  and  fosses  ! M 

"A  noble  pile,"  answered  Harold.  "But  pardon  me 
that  I  press  for " 

"  Ye  have  no  such  strong-holds,  I  say,  in  England," 
interrupted  the  duke,  petulantly. 

"  Nay,"  replied  the  Englishman,  ■?  we  have  two  strong- 
holds far  larger  than  that  —  Salisbury  Plain  and  New- 
market Heath!*  —  strong-holds  that  will  contain  fifty 

*  Similar  was  the  answer  of  Goodyn,  the  bishop  of  Winchester, 
ambassador  from  Henry  VIII.  to  the  French  king.     To  thin  day 


HAROLD.  85 

thousand  men  who  need  no  walls  but  their  shields. 
Count  William,  England's  ramparts  are  her  men,  and  her 
strongest  castles  are  her  widest  plains." 

"Ah  !"  said  the  duke,  biting  his-lip,  "ah,  so  be  it  — 
but  to  return; — in  that  castle,  mark  it  well,  the  dukes 
of  Normandy  hold  their  prisoners  of  state  ;  "  and  then  he 
added  with  a  laugh  :  "  but  we  hold  you,  noble  captive,  in 
a  prison  more  strong  —  our  love  and  our  heart." 

As  he  spoke,  he  turned  his  eye  full  upon  Harold,  and 
the  gaze  of  the  two  encountered :  that  of  the  duke  was 
brilliant,  but  stern  and  sinister;  that  of  Harold,  steadfast 
and  reproachful.  As  if  by  a  spell,  the  eye  of  each  rested 
long  on  that  of  the  other  —  as  the  eyes  of  two  lords  of 
the  forest,  ere  the  rush  and  the  spring. 

William  was  the  first  to  withdraw  his  gaze,  and  as  he 
did  so,  his  lip  quivered  and  his  brow  knit.  Then,  waving 
his  hand  for  some  of  the  lords  behind  to  join  him  and  the 
earl,  he  spurred  his  steed,  and  all  further  private  con- 
versation was  suspended.  The  train  pulled  not  bridle 
before  they  reached  a  monastery,  at  which  they  rested  for 
the  night. 

the  English  entertain  the  same  notion  of  forts  as  Harold  and 
Goodyn. 


II— 8 


86  HAROLD 


CHAPTER  Y. 

On  entering  the  chamber  set  apart  for  him  in  the  con- 
vent, Harold  found  Haco  and  Wolnoth  already  awaiting 
him  :  and  a  wound  he  had  received  in  the  last  skirmish 
against  the  Bretons,  having  broken  out  afresh  on  the 
road,  allowed  him  an  excuse  to  spend  the  rest  of  the 
evening  alone  with  his  kinsmen. 

On  conversing  with  them — now  at  length,  and  unre- 
strainedly— Harold  saw  everything  to  increase  his  alarm  ; 
for  even  Wolnoth.  when  closely  pressed,  could  not  but 
give  evidence  of  the  unscrupulous  astuteness  with  which, 
despite  all  the  boasted  honor  of  chivalry,  the  duke's  cha- 
racter was  stained.  For,  indeed,  in  his  excuse  it  must  be 
said,  that  from  the  age  of  eight,  exposed  to  the  snares 
of  his  own  kinsmen,  and  more  often  saved  by  craft  than 
by  strength,  William  had  been  taught  betimes  to  justify 
dissimulation,  and  confound  wisdom  with  guile.  Harold 
now  bitterly  recalled  the  parting  words  of  Edward,  and 
recognized  their  justice,  though  as  yet  he  did  not  see  all 
that  they  portended.  Fevered  and  disquieted  yet  more 
by  the  news  from  England,  and  conscious  that  not  only 
the  power  of  his  house  and  the  foundations  of  his  aspir- 
ing hopes,  but  the  very  weal  and  safety  of  the  land,  were 
daily  imperilled  by  his  continued  absence,  a  vague  and 
unspeakable  terror  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  preyed  on 


HAROLD.  81 

his  bold  heart  —  a  terror  like  that  of  superstition ;  for, 
like  superstition,  it  was  of  the  Unknown  ;  there  was 
everything  to  shun,  yet  no  substance  to  grapple  with. 
He  who  could  have  smiled  at  the  brief  pangs  of  death, 
shrunk  from  the  thought  of  the  perpetual  prison  ;  he, 
whose  spirit  rose  elastic  to  every  storm  of  life,  and  exulted 
in  the  air  of  action,  stood  appalled  at  the  fear  of  blind- 
ness ;  —  blindness  in  the  midst  of  a  career  so  grand  ;  — 
blindness  in  the  midst  of  his  pathway  to  a  throne  ;  — 
blindness,  that  curse  which  palsies  the  strong  and  enslaves 
the  free,  and  leaves  the  whole  man  defenceless  ; — defence- 
less in  an  Age  of  Iron. 

What,  too,  were  those  mysterious  points  on  which  he 
was  to  satisfy  the  duke  ?  He  sounded  his  young  kins- 
men ;  but  Wolnoth  evidently  knew  nothing  ;  Haco's  eye 
showed  intelligence,  but  by  his  looks  and  gestures  he 
seemed  to  signify  that  what  he  knew  he  would  only  dis- 
close to  Harold.  Fatigued,  not  more  with  his  emotions 
than  with  that  exertion  to  conceal  them,  so  peculiar  to 
the  English  character,  (proud  virtue  of  manhood  so  little 
appreciated,  and  so  rarely  understood  !)  he  at  length 
kissed  Wolnoth,  and  dismissed  him,  yawning,  to  his  rest. 
Haco,  lingering,  closed  the  door,  and  looked  long  and 
mournfully  at  the  earl. 

"Noble  kinsman, ?  said  the  young  son  of  Sweyn,  "I 
foresaw  from  the  first,  that,  as  our  fate  will  be  thine  ;  — 
only  round  thee  will  be  wall  and  fosse  ;  unless,  indeed, 
thou  wilt  lay  aside  thine  own  nature  ;  — it  will  give  thee 
no  armor  here  —  and  assume  that  which " 


*8  HAROLD. 

"  Ho  I "  interrupted  the  earl,  shaking  with  repressed 
passion,  "  I  see  already  all  the  foul  fraud  and  treason  to 
guest  and  noble  that  surround  me  !  But  if  the  duke  dare 
such  shame,  he  shall  do  so  in  the  eyes  of  day.  I  will 
hail  the  first  boat  I  see  on  his  river,  or  his  sea-coast ; 
and  woe  to  those  who  lay  hand  on  this  arm  to  detain 
me!" 

Haco  lifted  his  ominous  eyes  to  Harold's  ;  and  there 
was  something  in  their  cold  and  unimpassioned  expres- 
sion which  seemed  to  repel  all  enthusiasm,  and  to  deaden 
all  courage. 

"  Harold,"  said  he,  "  if  but  for  one  such  moment  thou 
obeyest  the  impulse  of  thy  manly  pride,  or  thy  just  re- 
sentment, thou  art  lost  for  ever  ;  one  show  of  violence, 
one  word  of  affront,  and  thou  givest  the  duke  the  excuse 
he  thirsts  for.  Escape  !  It  is  impossible.  For  the  last 
five  years,  I  have  pondered  night  and  day  the  means  of 
flight ;  for  I  deem  that  my  hostageship,  by  right,  is  long 
since  over ;  and  no  means  have  I  seen  or  found.  Spies 
dog  my  every  step,  as  spies,  no  doubt,  dog  thine." 

"  Ha  !  it  is  true,"  said  Harold  ;  "  never  once  have  I 
wandered  three  paces  from  the  camp  or  the  troop,  but, 
under  some  pretext,  I  have  been  followed  by  knight  or 
courtier.  God  and  our  Lady  help  me,  if  but  for  Eng- 
land's sake  !  But  what  counsellest  thou  ?  Boy,  teach 
me ;  thou  hast  been  reared  in  this  air  of  wile  —  to  me  it 
is  strange,  and  I  am  as  a  wild  beast  encompassed  by  a 
circle  of  fire." 

"  Then,"  answered  Haco,  "  meet  craft  by  craft,  smile 


HAROLD.  89 

by  smile.  Feel  that  thou  art  under  compulsion,  and  act, 
—  as  the  Church  itself  pardons  men  for  acting  so  com- 
pelled." 

Harold  started,  and  the  blush  spread  red  over  his 
cheeks. 

Haco  continued. 

"  Once  in  prison,  and  thou  art  lost  evermore  to  the 
sight  of  men.  William  would  not  then  dare  to  release 
thee  —  unless,  indeed,  he  first  rendered  thee  powerless  to 
avenge.  Though  I  will  not  malign  him,  and  say  that  he 
himself  is  capable  of  secret  murder,  yet  he  has  ever  those 
about  him  who  are.  He  drops  in  his  wrath  some  hasty 
word  ;  it  is  seized  by  ready  and  ruthless  tools.  The  great 
Count  of  Bretagne  was  in  his  way  ;  William  feared  him 
as  he  fears  thee ;  and  in  his  own  court,  and  amongst  his 
own  men,  the  great  Count  of  Bretagne  died  by  poison. 
For  thy  doom,  open  or  secret,  William,  however,  could 
find  ample  excuse." 

"  How,  boy  ?  What  charge  can  the  Norman  bring 
against  a  free  Englishman  ?  " 

"  His  kinsman  Alfred,"  answered  Haco,  "  was  blinded, 
tortured,  and  murdered.  And  in  the  court  of  Rouen, 
they  say  these  deeds  were  done  by  Godwin,  thy  father. 
The  Normans  who  escorted  Alfred  were  decimated  in 
cold  blood  ;  again,  they  say  Godwin  thy  father  slaughtered 
them." 

"  It  is  hell's  own  lie  ! "  cried  Harold,  "  and  so  have  I 
proved  already  to  the  duke." 

"  Proved  ?    No  !    The  lamb  does  not  prove  the  cause 
8* 


90  HAROLD. 

which  is  prejudged  by  the  wolf.  Often  and  often  have 
I  heard  the  Normans  speak  of  those  deeds,  and  cry  that 
vengeance  yet  shall  await  them.  It  is  but  to  renew  the 
old  accusation,  to  say  Godwin's  sudden  death  was  God's 
proof  of  his  crime,  and  even  Edward  himself  would  for- 
give the  duke  for  thy  bloody  death.  But  grant  the  best : 
gr&nt  that  the  more  lenient  doom  were  but  the  prison ; 
grant  that  Edward  and  the  English  invaded  Normandy 
to  enforce  thy  freedom  ;  —  knowest  thou  what  William 
hath  ere  now  done  with  hostages  ?  He  hath  put  them 
in  the  van  of  his  army,  and  seared  out  their  eyes  in  the 
sight  of  both  hosts.  Deemest  thou  he  would  be  more 
gentle  to  us  and  to  thee  ?  Such  are  thy  dangers.  Be 
bold  and  frank,  —  and  thou  canst  not  escape  them;  be 
wary  and  wise,  promise  and  feign, — and  they  are  baffled  : 
cover  thy  lion  heart  with  the  fox's  hide  until  thou  art 
free  from  the  toils." 

"  Leave  me,  leave  me,"  said  Harold,  hastily.  "Yet, 
hold.  Thou  didst  seem  to  understand  me  when  I  hinted 
of — in  a  word,  what  is  the  object  William  would  gain 
from  me  ?  " 

Haco  looked  round;  again  went  to  the  door  —  again 
opened  and  closed  it — approached,  and  whispered,  "The 
crown  of  England  ! " 

The  earl  bounded,  as  if  shot  to  the  heart ;  then,  again 
he  cried,  "Leave  me.  I  must  be  alone  —  alone  now. 
"Go!  go!" 


HAROLD.  91 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Only  in  solitude  could  that  strong  man  give  way  to 
his  emotions  ;  and  at  first  they  rushed  forth  so  confused 
and  stormy,  so  hurtling  one  the  other,  that  hours  elapsed 
before  he  could  scarcely  face  the  terrible  crisis  of  his 
position. 

The  great  historian  of  Italy  has  said,  that  whenever 
the  simple  and  truthful  German  came  amongst  the  plotting 
and  artful  Italians,  and  experienced  their  duplicity  and 
craft,  he  straightway  became  more  false  and  subtle  than 
the  Italians  themselves ;  to  his  own  countrymen,  indeed, 
he  continued  to  retain  his  characteristic  sincerity  and 
good  faith  ;  but,  once  duped  and  tricked  by  the  southern 
schemers,  as  if  with  a  fierce  scorn,  he  rejected  troth  with 
the  truthless ;  he  exulted  in  mastering  them  in  their  own 
wily  statesmanship  ;  and  if  reproached  for  insincerity, 
retorted  with  naive  wonder,  "Ye  Italians,  and  complain 
of  insincerity  !  How  otherwise  can  one  deal  with  you  — 
how  be  safe  amongst  you?" 

Somewhat  of  this  revolution  of  all  the  natural  elements 
of  his  character  took  place  in  Harold's  mind  that  stormy 
and  solitary  night.  In  the  transport  of  his  indignation, 
he  resolved  not  doltishly  to  be  thus  outwitted  to  his  ruin. 
The  perfidious  host  had  deprived  himself  of  that  privilege 


92  HAROLD. 

of  Truth  —  the  large  and  heavenly  security  of  man  ;  — 
it  was  but  a  struggle  of  wit  against  wit,  snare  against 
snare.  The  state  and  law  of  warfare  had  started  up  in 
the  lap  of  fraudful  peace ;  and  ambush  must  be  met  by 
ambush,  plot  by  plot. 

Such  was  the  nature  of  the  self-excuses  by  which  the 
Saxon  defended  his  resolves,  and  they  appeared  to  him 
more  sanctioned  by  the  stake  which  depended  on  success 
— a  stake  which  his  undying  patriotism  allowed  to  be  far 
more  vast  than  his  individual  ambition.  Nothing  was 
more  clear  than  that  if  he  were  detained  in  a  Norman 
prison,  at  the  time  of  King  Edward's  death,  the  sole 
obstacle  to  William's  design  on  the  English  throne  would 
be  removed.  In  the  interim,  the  duke's  intrigues  would 
again  surround  the  infirm  king  with  Norman  influences ; 
and  in  the  absence  both  of  any  legitimate  heir  to  the 
throne  capable  of  commanding  the  trust  of  the  people, 
and  of  his  own  preponderating  ascendency  both  in  the 
Witan  and  the  armed  militia  of  the  nation,  what  could 
arrest  the  designs  of  the  grasping  duke  ?  Thus  his  own 
liberty  was  indissolubly  connected  with  that  of  his 
country ; — and  for  that  great  end,  the  safety  of  England, 
all  means  grew  holy. 

When  the  next  morning  he  joined  the  cavalcade,  it 
was  only  by  his  extreme  paleness  that  the  struggle  and 
agony  of  the  past  night  could  be  traced,  and  he  answered 
with  correspondent  cheerfulness  William's  cordial  greet- 
ings. 

As  they  rode  together  —  still  accompanied  by  several 


HAROLD.  93 

knights,  and  the  discourse  was  thus  general,  the  features 
of  the  country  suggested  the  theme  of  the  talk.  For, 
now  in  the  heart  of  Normandy,  but  in  rural  districts 
remote  from  the  great  towns,  nothing  could  be  more 
waste  and  neglected  than  the  face  of  the  land.  Misera- 
ble and  sordid  to  the  last  degree  were  the  huts  of  the 
serfs ;  and  when  these  last  met  them  on  their  way,  half- 
naked  and  hunger-worn,  there  was  a  wild  gleam  of  hate 
and  discontent  in  their  eyes,  as  they  louted  low  to  the 
Norman  riders,  and  heard  the  bitter  and  scornful  taunts 
with  which  they  were  addressed ;  for  the  Norman  and 
the  Frank  had  more  than  indifference  for  the  peasants 
of  their  land ;  they  literally  both  despised  and  abhorred 
them,  as  of  different  race  from  the  conquerors.  The 
Norman  settlement  especially  was  so  recent  in  the  land, 
that  none  of  that  amalgamation  between  class  and  class 
which  centuries  had  created  in  England,  existed  there  ; 
though  in  England  the  theowe  was  wholly  a  slave,  and 
the  ceorl  in  a  political  servitude  to  his  lord,  yet  public 
opinion,  more  mild  than  law,  preserved  the  thraldom 
from  wanton  aggravation  ;  and  slavery  was  felt  to  be 
wrong  and  unchristian.  The  Saxon  Church  —  not  the 
less,  perhaps,  for  its  very  ignorance  —  sympathized  more 
with  the  subject  population,  and  was  more  associated 
with  it  than  the  comparatively  learned  and  haughty 
ecclesiastics  of  the  continent,  who  held  aloof  from  the 
unpolished  vulgar.  The  Saxon  Church  invariably  set 
the  example  of  freeing  the  theowe  and  emancipating  the 
ceorl,  and  taught  that  such  acts  were  to  the  salvation 


94  HAROLD. 

of  the  soul.  The  rude  and  homely  manner  in  which  the 
greater  part  of  the  Saxon  thegns  lived — dependent  solely 
for  their  subsistence  on  their  herds  and  agricultural  pro- 
duce, and  therefore  on  the  labor  of  their  peasants  —  not 
only  made  the  distinctions  of  rank  less  harsh  and  visible, 
but  rendered  it  the  interest  of  the  lords  to  feed  and  clothe 
well  their  dependants.  All  our  records  of  the  customs 
of  the  Saxons  prove  the  ample  sustenance  given  to  the 
poor,  and  a  general  care  for  their  lives  and  rights,  which, 
compared  with  the  Frank  laws,  may  be  called  enlightened 
and  humane.  And  above  all,  the  lowest  serf  ever  had 
the  great  hope  both  of  freedom  and  of  promotion  ;  but 
the  beast  of  the  field  was  holier  in  the  eyes  of  the  Nor- 
man than  the  wretched  villein.*     We  have  likened  the 


*  See  Mr.  Wright's  very  interesting  article  on  the  "  Condition  of 
the  English  Peasantry,"  &c.,  Archseologia,  vol.  xxx.  pp.  205-244. 
I  must,  however,  observe,  that  one  very  important  fact  seems  to 
have  been  generally  overlooked  by  all  inquirers,  or,  at  least,  not 
sufficiently  enforced,  viz.,  that  it  was  the  Norman's  contempt  for 
the  general  mass  of  the  subject  population,  which,  more  perhaps 
than  any  other  cause,  broke  up  positive  slavery  in  England.  Thus 
the  Norman  very  soon  lost  sight  of  that  distinction  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  had  made  between  the  agricultural  ceorl  and  the  theowe, 
i.  e.,  between  the  serf  of  the  soil  and  the  personal  slave.  Hence 
these  classes  became  fused  in  each  other,  and  were  gradually  eman  • 
cipated  by  the  same  circumstances.  This,  be  it  remarked,  could 
never  have  taken  place  under  the  Anglo-Saxon  laws,  which  kept 
constantly  feeding  the  class  of  slaves  by  adding  to  it  convicted 
felons  and  their  children.  The  subject  population  became  too 
necessary  to  the  Norman  barons,  in  their  feuds  with  each  other,  or 
their  king,  to  bp  long  oppressed;  and,  in  the  time  of  Froissart, 
that  worthy  chronicler  ascribes  the  insolence,  or  high  spirit  of  U 
menu  peuple  to  their  grand  aise,  et  abondance  de  biens. 


HAROLD.  95 

Norman  to  the  Spartan,  and,  most  of  all,  he  was  like 
him  in  his  scorn  of  the  helot. 

Thus  embruted  and  degraded,  deriving  little  from  reli- 
gion itself,  except  its  terrors,  the  general  habits  of  the 
peasants  on  the  continent  of  France  were  against  the  very 
basis  of  Christianity — marriage.  They  lived  together  for 
the  most  part  without  that  tie,  and  hence  the  common 
name,  with  which  they  were  called  by  their  masters,  lay 
and  clerical,  was  the  coarsest  word  contempt  can  apply 
to  the  sons  of  women. 

"  The  hounds  glare  at  us,"  said  Odo,  as  a  drove  of 
these  miserable  serfs  passed  along.  "  They  heed  ever  the 
lash  to  teach  them  to  know  the  master.  Are  they  thus 
mutinous  and  surly  in  England,  Lord  Harold  ? " 

"  No  :  but  there  our  meanest  theowes  are  not  seen  so 
clad,  nor  housed  in  such  hovels,"  said  the  earl. 

"And  is  it  really  true  that  a  villein  with  you  can  rise 
to  be  a  noble  ?" 

"  Of  at  least  yearly  occurrence.  Perhaps  the  fore- 
fathers of  one-fourth  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  thegns  held 
the  plough,  or  followed  some  craft  mechanical." 

Duke  William  politically  checked  Odo's  answer,  and 
said  mildly, — 

"Every  land  its  own  laws  :  and  by  them  alone  should 
it  be  governed  by  a  virtuous  and  wise  ruler.  But,  noble 
Harold,  I  grieve  that  you  should  thus  note  the  sore  point 
in  my  realm.  I  grant  that  the  condition  of  the  peasants 
and  the  culture  of  the  land  need  reform.  But  in  my 
childhood,  there  was  a  fierce  outbreak  of  rebellion  among 


96  HAROLD. 

the  villeins,  needing  bloody  example  to  check,  and  the 
memories  of  wrath  between  lord  and  villein  must  sleep 
before  we  can  do  justice  between  them,  as  please  St.  Pe- 
ter, and  by  Lanfranc's  aid,  we  hope  to  do.  Meanwhile, 
one  great  portion  of  our  villeinage  in  our  larger  towns 
we  have  much  mitigated.  For  trade  and  commerce  are 
the  strength  of  rising  states  ;  and  if  our  fields  are  barren, 
our  streets  are  prosperous." 

Harold  bowed,  and  rode  musingly  on.  That  civiliza- 
tion he  had  so  much  admired  bounded  itself  to  the  noble 
class,  and,  at  farthest,  to  the  circle  of  the  duke's  commer- 
cial policy.  Beyond  it,  on  the  outskirts  of  humanity,  lay 
the  mass  of  the  people.  And  here,  no  comparison  in 
favor  of  the  latter  could  be  found  between  English  and 
Norman  civilization. 

The  towers  of  Bayeux  rose  dim  in  the  distance,  when 
William  proposed  a  halt  in  a  pleasant  spot  by  the  side 
of  a  small  stream,  overshadowed  by  oak  and  beech.  A 
tent  for  himself  and  Harold  was  pitched  in  haste,  and 
after  an  abstemious  refreshment,  the  duke,  taking  Harold's 
arm,  led  him  away  from  the  train  along  the  margin  of 
the  murmuring  stream. 

.  They  were  soon  in  a  remote,  pastoral,  primitive  spot,  a 
spot  like  those  which  the  old  menestrels  loved  to  describe, 
and  in  which  some  pious  hermit  might,  pleased,  have  fixed 
his  solitary  home. 

Halting  where  a  mossy  bank  jutted  over  the  water, 
William  motioned  to  his  companion  to  seat  himself,  and 
reclining  at  his  side,  abstractedly  took  the  pebbles  from 


HAROLD.  97 

c  ie  margin  and  dropped  them  into  the  stream.  They  fell 
to  the  bottom  with  a  hollow  sound ;  the  circle  they  made 
oa  the  surface  widened,  and  was  lost :  and  the  wave 
r  *shed  and  murmured  on,  disdainful. 

"  Harold,"  said  the  duke  at  last,  "thou  hast  thought, 
1  /ear,  that  I  have  trifled  with  thy  impatience  to  return. 
Bat  there  is  on  my  mind  a  matter  of  great  moment  to 
tlee  and  to  me,  and  it  must  out,  before  thou  canst  depart. 
0-\  this  very  spot  where  we  now  sit,  sate  in  early  youth, 
Edward  thy  king,  and  William  thy  host.  Soothed  by 
th<i  loneliness  of  the  place,  and  the  music  of  the  bell  from 
ths;  church-tower,  rising  pale  through  yonder  glade,  Ed- 
ward spoke  of  his  desire  for  the  monastic  life,  and  of  his 
content  with  his  exile  in  the  Norman  land.  Few  then 
w**re  the  hopes  that  he  should  ever  attain  the  throne  of 
Alfred.  I,  more  martial,  and  ardent  for  him  as  myself, 
combated  the  thought  of  the  convent,  and  promised,  that, 
if  ever  occasion  meet  arrived,  and  he  needed  the  Nor- 
man help,  I  would,  with  arm  and  heart,  do  a  chiefs  best 
to  win  him  his  lawful  crown.  Heedest  thou  me,  dear 
Harold  ?  " 

"Ay,  my  host,  with  heart  as  with  ear." 
"And  Edward  then,  pressing  my  hand  as  I  now  press 
thine,  while  answering  gratefully,  promised,  that  if  he 
did,  contrary  to  all  human  foresight,  gain  his  heritage, 
he,  in  case  I  survived  him,  would  bequeath  that  heritage 
to  me.     Thy  hand  withdraws  itself  from  mine." 
"But  from  surprise.     Duke  William,  proceed." 
"  Now,"  resumed  William,  "  when  thy  kinsmen  were 
ri.  —  9  2f 


98  HAROLD. 

sent  to  me  as  hostages  for  the  most  powerful  House  in 
England  —  the  only  one  that  could  thwart  the  desire  of 
my  cousin  —  I  naturally  deemed  this  a  corroboration  of 
his  promise,  and  au  earnest  of  his  continued  designs ; 
and  in  this  I  was  reassured  by  the  prelate,  Robert  arch- 
bishop  of  Canterbury,  who  knew  the  most  secret  con- 
science of  your  king.  Wherefore  my  pertinacity  in 
retaining  those  hostages  ;  wherefore  my  disregard  to 
Edward's  mere  remonstrances,  which  I,  not  unnaturally, 
conceived  to  be  but  his  meek  concessions  to  the  urgent 
demands  of  thyself  and  House.  Since  then,  Fortune  or 
Providence  hath  favored  the  promise  of  the  king,  and 
my  just  expectations  founded  thereon.  For  one  moment 
it  seemed  indeed  that  Edward  regretted  or  reconsidered 
the  pledge  of  our  youth.  He  sent  for  his  kinsman,  the 
Atheling,  natural  heir  to  the  throne.  But  the  poor  prince 
died.  The  son,  a  mere  child,  if  I  am  rightly  informed, 
the  laws  of  thy  land  will  set  aside,  should  Edward  die 
ere  the  child  grow  a  man  ;  and,  moreover,  I  am  assured, 
that  the  young  Edgar  hath  no  power  of  mind  or  intellect 
to  wield  so  weighty  a  sceptre  as  that  of  England.  Your 
king,  also,  even  since  your  absence,  hath  had  severe 
visitings  of  sickness,  and  ere  another  year  his  new  abbey- 
may  hold  his  tomb." 

William  here  paused :  again  dropped  the  pebbles  into 
the  stream,  and  glanced  furtively  on  the  unrevealing  face 
of  the  earl.     He  resumed  — 

"  Thy  brother  Tostig,  as  so  nearly  allied  to  my  House, 
would,  I  am  advised,  back  my  claims ;    and  wert  thou 


HAROLD.  99 

absent  from  England,  Tostig,  I  conceive,  would  be  in  thy 
place  as  the  head  of  the  great  party  of  Godwin.     But  to 
prove  how  little  I  care  for  thy  brother's  aid  compared 
with  thine,  and  how  implicitly  I  count  on  thee,  I  have 
openly  told  thee  what  a  wilier  plotter  would  have  con- 
cealed—  viz.  the  danger  to  which  thy  brother  is  exposed 
in  his  own  earldom.     To  the  point,  then,  I  pass  at  once. 
I  might,  as  my  ransomed  captive,  detain  thee  here,  until, 
without  thee,  I  had  won  my  English  throne,  and  I  know 
that  thou  alone  couldst  obstruct  my  just  claims,  or  inter- 
fere with  the  king's  will,  by  which  that  appanage  will  be 
left  to  me.     Nevertheless,  I  unbosom  myself  to  thee,  and 
would  owe  my  crown  solely  to  thine  aid.     I  pass  on  to 
treat  with  thee,  dear  Harold,  not   as  lord  with  vassal, 
but  as  prince  with  prince.   ,  On  thy  part,  thou  shalt  hold 
for  me  the  castle  of  Dover,  to  yield  to  my  fleet  when  the 
hour  comes ;  thou  shalt  aid  me  in  peace,  and  through  thy 
National  Witan,  to  succeed  to  Edward,  by  whose  laws  I 
will  reign  in    all  things   conformably  with  the  English 
rites,  habits,  and   decrees.     A  stronger  king  to   guard 
England  from  the  Dane,  and  a  more  practised  head  to 
improve  her  prosperity,  I  am  vain  eno?  to  say  thou  wilt 
not  find  in  Christendom.     On  my  part,  I  offer  to  thee  my 
fairest  daughter,  Adeliza,  to  whom  thou  shalt  be  straight- 
way betrothed  :  thine  own  young  unwedded  sister,  Thyra, 
thou  shalt  give  to  one  of  my  greatest  barons :  all  the 
lands,  dignities,  and  possessions  thou  holdest  now,  thou 
shalt  still  retain  ;  and  if,  as  I  suspect,  thy  brother  Tostig 
cannot  keep  his  vast  principality  north  the  Humber,  it 


100  HAROLD. 

shall  pass  to  thee.  Whatever  else  thou  canst  demand  in 
guarantee  of  my  love  and  gratitude,  or  so  to  confirm  thy 
power  that  thou  shalt  rule  over  thy  countships  as  free 
and  as  powerful  as  the  great  Counts  of  Provence  01 
Anjou  reign  in  France  over  theirs,  subject  only  to  the 
mere  form  of  holding  in  fief  to  the  Suzerain,  as  I,  stormy 
subject,  hold  Normandy  under  Philip  of  France,  —  shall 
be  given  to  thee.  In  truth,  there  will  be  two  kings  in 
England,  though  in  name  but  one.  And  far  from  losing 
by  the  death  of  Edward,  thou  shalt  gain  by  the  subjec- 
tion of  every  meaner  rival,  and  the  cordial  love  of  thy 
grateful  William.  —  Splendor  of  God,  earl,  thou  keepest 
me  long  for  thine  answer  ! n 

"What  thou  offerest,"  said  the  earl,  fortifying  himself 
with  the  resolution  of  the  previous  night,  and  compress- 
ing his  lips,  livid  with  rage,  "  is  beyond  my  deserts,  and 
all  that  the  greatest  chief  under  royalty  coulcf  desire. 
But  England  is  not  Edward's  to  leave,  nor  mine  to  give  ; 
its  throne  rests  with  the  Witan." 

"And  the  Witan  rests  with  thee,"  exclaimed  William, 
sharply.  "  I  ask  but  for  possibilities,  man  ;  I  ask  but  all 
thine  influence  on  my  behalf;  and  if  it  be  less  than  I 
deem,  mine  is  the  loss.  What  dost  thou  resign  ?  I  will 
not  presume  to  menace  thee ;  but  thou  wouldst,  indeed, 
despise  my  folly,  if  now,  knowing  my  designs,  I  let  thee 
forth  —  not  to  aid  but  betray  them.  I  know  thou  lovest 
England,  so  do  I.  Thou  deemest  me  a  foreigner;  true, 
but  the  Norman  and  Dane  are  of  precisely  the  same 
origin.     Thou,    of  the   race   of   Canute,    knowest   how 


HAROLD.  lOl 

popular  was  the  reign  of  that  king.  Why  should  Wil- 
liam's be  less  so  ?  Canute  had  no  right  whatsoever,  save 
that  of  the  sword.  My  right  will  be  kinship  to  Edward 
—  Edward's  wish  in  ray  favor — the  consent  through  thee 
of  the  Witan  —  the  absence  of  all  other  worthy  heir. — 
my  wife's  clear  descent  from  Alfred,  which,  in  my 
children,  restores  the  Saxon  line,  through  its  purest  and 
noblest  ancestry,  to  the  throne.  Think  over  all  this,  and 
then  wilt  thou  tell  me  that  I  merit  not  this  crown  ?  n 

Harold  yet  paused,  and  the  fiery  duke  resumed  — 

"Are  the  terms  I  give  not  tempting  eno'  to  my  cap- 
U&e —  to  the  son  of  the  great  Godwin,  who,  no  doubt 
falsely;  but  still  by  the  popular  voice  of  all  Europe,  had 
power  of  life  and  death  over  my  cousin  Alfred  and  my 
Norman  knights  ?  or  dost  thou  thyself  covet  the  English 
crown  ;  and  is  it  to  a  rival  that  I  have  opened  my  heart  ?  " 
.  "Na^,"  said  Harold  in  the  crowning  effort  of  his  new 
and  fatal  lesson  in  simulation.  "  Thou  hast  convinced 
me,  Duke  William  ;  let  it  be  as  thou  sayest." 

The  duke  gave  way  to  his  joy  by  a  loud  exclamation, 
and  then  recapitulated  the  articles  of  the  engagement,  to 
which  Harold  simply  bowed  his  head.  Amicably,  then, 
the  duke  embraced  the  earl,  and  the  two  returned  to- 
wards the  tent. 

While  the  steeds  were  brought  forth,  William  took  the 
opportunity  to  draw  Odo  apart ;  and,  after  a  short 
whispered  conference,  the  prelate  hastened  to  his  barb, 
and  spurred  fast  to  Bayeux  in  advance  of  the  party.  All 
that  day,  and  all  that  night,  and  all  the  next  morn  till 
9* 


102S  HAROLD. 

noon,  couriers  and  riders  went  abroad,  north  and  sobcl» 
east  and  west,  to  all  the  more  famous  abbeys  and  churches 
in  Normandy,   and  holy  and    awful  was  the  spoil  with 
which  they  returned  for  the  ceremony  of  the  next  day. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

The  stately  mirth  of  the  evening  banquet  seemed  to 
Harold  as  the  malign  revel  of  some  demoniac  orgie.  He 
thought  he  read  in  every  face  the  exultation  over  the  sale 
of  England.  Every  light  laugh  in  the  proverbial  ease 
of  the  social  Normans  rang  on  his  ear  like  the  joy  of  a 
ghastly  Sabbat.  All  his  senses  preternaturally  sharpened 
to  that  magnetic  keenness  in  which  we  less  hear  and  see 
than  conceive  and  divine,  the  lowest  murmur  William 
breathed  in  the  ear  of  Odo,  boomed  clear  to  his  own ; 
the  slightest  interchange  of  glance  between  some  dark- 
browed  priest,  and  large-breasted  warrior,  flashed  upon 
his  vision.  The  irritation  of  his  recent  and  neglected 
wound,  combined  with  his  mental  excitement  to  quicken, 
yet  to  confuse  his  faculties.  Body  and  soul  were  fevered. 
He  floated,  as  it  were,  between  a  delirium  and  a  dream. 

Late  in  the  evening  he  was  led  into  the  chamber  where 
the  duchess  sat  alone  with  Adeliza  and  her  second  son 
William — a  boy  who  had  the  red  hair  and  florid  hues  of 
the  ancestral  Dane,  but  was  not  without  a  certain  bold 
and  strange  kind  of  beauty,  and  who,  even  in  childhood, 


H  A  R  0  T4P  ♦ 


103 


all  covered  with  broidery  and  gert*£,  betrayed  the  passion 
for  that  extravagant  and  fantastic  foppery  for  which 
William,  the  red  king,  to  the  scandal  of  Church  and  pul- 
pit, exchanged  the  decorous  pomp  of  his  father's  genera- 
tion. A  formal  presentation  of  Harold  to  the  little  maid 
was  followed  by  a  brief  ceremony  of  words,  which  con- 
veyed what,  to  the  scornful  sense  of  the  earl,  seemed  the 
mockery  of  betrothal  between  infant  and  bearded  man. 
Glozing  congratulations  buzzed  around  him  ;  then  there 
was  a  flash  of  lights  on  his  dizzy  eyes,  he  found  himself 
moving  through  a  corridor  between  Odo  and  William. 
He  was  in  his  room  hung  with  arras  and  strewed  with 
rushes  ;  before  him,  in  niches,  various  images  of  the  Vir- 
gin, the  Archangel  Michael,  St.  Stephen,  St.  Peter,  St. 
John,  St.  Yalery  j  and  from  the  bells  in  the  monastic 
edifice  hard  by  tolled  the  third  watch*  of  the  night — the 
narrow  casement  was  out  of  reach,  high  in  the  massive 
wall,  and  the  starlight  was  darkened  by  the  great  church- 
tower.  Harold  longed  for  air.  All  his  earldom  had  he 
given  at  that  moment,  to  feel  the  cold  blast  of  his  native 
skies  moaning  round  his  Saxon  wolds.  He  opened  his 
door,  and  looked  forth.  A  lanthorn  swung  on  high  from 
the  groined  roof  of  the  corridor.  By  the  lanthorn  stood 
a  tall  sentry  in  arms,  and  its  gleam  fell  red  upon  an  iron 
grate  that  jealously  barred  the  egress.  The  earl  closed 
the  door,  and  sat  down  on  his  bed,  covering  his  face  with 
his  clenched  hand.  The  veins  throbbed  in  every  pulse, 
his  own  touch  seemed  to  him  like  fire.     The  prophecies 

*  Twelve  o'clock. 


/ 


104  HAROLL. 

of  Hilda  on  the  fatal  night  by  the  bautastein,  which  had 

decided  him  to  reject  the  prayer  of  Gurth,  the  fears  of 

Edith,  and  the  cautions  of  Edward,  came  back  to  him, 

dark,  haunting,  and  over-masteringly.   They  rose  between 

him  and  his  sober  sense,  whenever  he  sought  to  re-collect 

his  thoughts,  now  to  madden  him  with  the  sense  of  his 

folly  in  belief,  now  to  divert  his  mind  from  the  perilous 

present  to  the  triumphant  future  they  foretold  ;  and  of 

all  the  varying  chaunts  of  the  Yala,  ever  two  lines  seemed 

to  burn  into  his  -memory,  and  to  knell  upon  his  ear  as  if 

they  contained  the  counsel  they  ordained  him  to  pursue : 

"Guile  by  guile  oppose,  and  never 
Crown  and  brow  shall  Force  dissever ! " 

So  there  he  sat,  locked  and  rigid,  not  reclining,  not  dis- 
robing, till  in  that  posture  a  haggard,  troubled,  fitful 
sleep  came  over  him  ;  nor  did  he  wake  till  the  hour  of 
prime,*  when  ringing  bells  and  trampling  feet,  and  the 
hum  of  prayer  from  the  neighboring  chapel,  roused  him 
into  waking  yet  more  troubled,  and  well-nigh  as  dreamy. 
But  now  Godrith  and  Haco  entered  the  room,  and  the 
former  inquired  with  some  surprise  in  his  tone,  if  he  had 
arranged  with  the  duke  to  depart  that  day;  "for,"  said 
he,  "  the  duke's  hors-thegn  has  just  been  with  me,  to  say 
that  the  duke  himself,  and  a  stately  retinue,  are  to  accom- 
pany you  this  evening  towards  Harfleur,  where  a  ship 
will  be  in  readiness  for  our  transport  ;  and  I  know  that 
the  chamberlain  (a  courteous  and  pleasant  man)  is  going 
round  to  my  fellow-thegns  in  your  train,  with  gifts  of 
hawks,  and  chains,  and  broidered  palls.'7 

*  Six,  A.  M. 


HAROLD.  105 

"It  is  so,"  said  Haco,  in  answer  to  Harold's  brighten- 
ing and  appealing  eye. 

"  Go  then,  at  once,  Godrith,"  exclaimed  the  earl, 
bounding  to  his  feet,  "  have  all  in  order  to  part  at  the 
first  break  of  the  trump.  Never,  I  ween,  did  trump  sound 
so  cheerily  as  the  blast  that  shall  announce  our  return  to 
England.     Haste  —  haste  !  " 

As  Godrith,  pleased  in  the  earPs  pleasure,  though  him- 
self already  much  fascinated  by  the  honors  he  had  re- 
ceived, and  the  splendor  he  had  witnessed,  withdrew,  Haco 
said,  "  Thou  hast  taken  my  counsel,  noble  kinsman  ?  " 

"  Question  me  not,  Haco  !  Out  of  my  memory,  all  that 
hath  passed  here  ! " 

"Not  yet,"  said  Haco,  with  that  gloomy  and  intense 

seriousness  of  voice  and  aspect,  which  was  so  at  variance 

with  his  years,  and  which  impressed  all  he  said  with  an 

indescribable  authority.     "Not  yet;  for  even  while  the 

chamberlain  went  his  round  with  the  parting  gifts,  I, 

standing  in  the  angle  of  the  wall  in  the  yard,  heard  the 

duke's  deep  whisper  to  Roger  Bigod,  who  has  the  guard 

of  the  keape,  'Have  the  men  all  armed  at  noon  in  the 

passage  below  the  council-hall,  to  mount  at  the  stamp  of 

my  foot;  and  if  then  I  give  thee  a  prisoner  —  wonder 

not,   but  lodge  him — '     The  duke  paused;  and  Bigod 

said,    '  Where,    my   liege  ? '     And   the    duke   answered, 

fiercely,  '  Where  ?  why,  where  but  in  the  Tournoir? — 

where,  but  in  the  cell  in  which  Malvoisin  rotted  out  his 

last  hour  ?  '     Not  yet,  then,  let  the  memory  o**  Norman 

wile  pass  away  ;  let  the  lip  guard  the  freedom  still." 
9* 


106  HAROLD. 

All  the  bright  native  soul  that  before  Haco  spoke  had 
dawned  gradually  back  on  the  earl's  fair  face,  now  closed 
itself  up,  as  the  leaves  of  a  poisoned  flower ;  and  the 
pupil  of  the  eye  receding,  left  to  the  orb  that  secret  and 
strange  expression  which  had  baffled  all  readers  of  the 
heart  in  the  look  of  his  impenetrable  father. 

"  Guile  by  guile  oppose  !  M  he  muttered  vaguely  ;  then 
started,  clenched  his  hand,  and  smiled. 

In  a  few  moments,  more  than  the  usual  levee  of  Nor- 
man nobles  thronged  into  the  room  ;  and  what  with  the 
wonted  order  of  the  morning,  in  the  repast,  the  church 
service  of  tierce,  and  a  ceremonial  visit  to  Matilda,  who 
confirmed  the  intelligence  that  all  was  in  preparation  for 
his  departure,  and  charged  him  with  gifts  of  her  own 
needlework  to  his  sister  the  queen,  and  various  messages 
of  gracious  nature,  the  time  waxed  late  into  noon  with- 
out his  having  yet  seen  either  William  or  Odo. 

He  was  still  with  Matilda,  when  the  Lords  Fitzosborne 
and  Raoul  de  Tancarville  entered  in  full  robes  of  state, 
and  with  countenances  unusually  composed  and  grave, 
and  prayed  the  earl  to  accompany  them  into  the  duke's 
presence. 

Harold  obeyed  in  silence,  not  unprepared  for  covert 
danger,  by  the  formality  of  the  counts,  as  by  the  warn- 
ings of  Haco  ;  but,  indeed,  undivining  the  solemnity  of 
the  appointed  snare.  On  entering  the  lofty  hall,  he 
beheld  William  seated  in  state ;  his  sword  of  office  in  his 
hand,  his  ducal  robe  on  his  imposing  form,  and  with  that 
peculiarly  erect  air  of  the  head  which  he  assumed  upon 


h.arold.  107 

all  ceremonial  occasions.*  Behind  him  stood  Odo  of 
Bayeux,  in  aube  and  pallium  ;  some  score  of  the  duke's 
greatest  vassals  ;  and,  at  a  little  distance  from  the  throne- 
chair,  was  what  seemed  a  table,  or  vast  chest,  covered  all 
over  with  cloth  of  gold. 

Small  time  for  wonder  or  self-collection  did  the  duke 
give  the  Saxon. 

"Approach,  Harold,"  said  he,  in  the  full  tones  of  that 
voice,  so  singularly  effective  in  command;  "approach, 
and  without  fear,  as  without  regret.  Before  the  members 
of  this  noble  assembly  —  all  witnesses  of  thy  faith,  and 
all  guarantees  of  mine  —  I  summon  thee  to  confirm  by 
oath  the  promises  thou  mad'st  me  yesterday ;  namely,  to 
aid  me  to  obtain  the  kingdom  of  England  on  the  death 
of  King  Edward,  my  cousin  ;  to  marry  my  daughter 
Adeliza ;  and  to  send  thy  sister  hither,  that  I  may  wed 
her,  as  we  agreed,  to  one  of  my  worthiest  and  prowest 
counts.  Advance  thou,  Odo,  my  brother,  and  repeat  to 
the  noble  earl  the  Norman  form  by  which  he  will  take 
the  oath." 

Then  Odo  stood  forth  by  that  mysterious  receptacle 
covered  with  the  cloth  of  gold,  and  said  briefly :  "  Thou 

*  A  celebrated  antiquary,  in  his  treatise  in  the  "Archaeologia," 
on  the  authenticity  of  the  Bayeux  tapestry,  very  justly  invites 
attention  to  the  rude  attempt  of  the  artist  to  preserve  individuality 
in  his  portraits ;  and  especially  to  the  singularly  erect  bearing;  of 
the  duke,  by  which  he  is  at  once  recognized  wherever  he  is  intro~ 
duced.  Less  pains  are  taken  with  the  portrait  of  Harcld;  but 
even  iu  that  a  certain  elegance  of  proportion,  and  length  of  limb, 
as  well  as  height  of  stature,  are  generally  preserved. 


108  HAROLD. 

wilt  swear,  as  far  as  is  in  thy  power,  to  tulfil  thy  agree- 
ment with  William,  duke  of  the  Normans,  if  thou  live, 
and  God  aid  thee ;  and  in  witness  of  that  oath  thou  wilt 
lay  thy  hand  upon  the  reliquaire,"  pointing  to  a  small 
box  that  lay  on  tho  cloth  of  gold. 

All  this  was  so  sudden  —  all  flashed  so  rapidly  upon 
the  earl,  whose  natural  intellect,  however  great,  was,  as 
we  have  often  seen,  more  deliberate  than  prompt  —  so 
thoroughly  was  the  bold  heart,  which  no  siege  could  have 
sapped,  taken  by  surprise  and  guile  —  so  paramount 
through  all  the  whirl  and  tumult  of  his  mind,  rose  the 
thought  of  England  irrevocably  lost,  if  he  who  alone 
could  save  her  was  in  the  Norman  dungeons — so  darkly 
did  all  Haco's  fears,  and  his  own  just  suspicions,  quell 
and  master  him,  that  mechanically,  dizzily,  dreamily,  he 
laid  his  hand  on  the  reliquaire,  and  repeated,  with 
automaton  lips  — 

"If  I  live,  and  if  God  aid  me  to  it!" 

Then  all  the  assembly  repeated  solemnly  — 

"  God  aid  him  !  " 

And  suddenly,  at  a  sign  from  William,  Odo  and  Raoui 
de  Tancarville  raised  the  gold  cloth,  and  the  duke's  voice 
bade  Harold  look  below. 

As  when  man  descends  from  the  gilded  sepulchre  to 
the  loathsome  charnel,  so  at  the  lifting  of  that  cloth,  all 
the  dread  ghastliness  of  death  was  revealed.  There, 
from  abbey  and  from  church,  from  cyst  and  from  shrine, 
had  been  collected  all  the  relics  of  human  nothingness  in 
which  superstition  adored  the  mementos  of  saints  divine ; 


HAROLD.  109 

there  lay,  pell-mell  and  huddled,  skeleton  and  mummy  — i 
the  dry  dark  skin,  the  white  gleaming  bones  of  the  dead, 
mockingly  cased  in  gold,  and  decked  with  rubies  ;  there, 
grim  fingers  protruded  through  the  hideous  chaos,  and 
pointed  towards  the  living  man  ensnared  ;  there,  the  skull 
grinned  scoff  under  the  holy  mitre ; — and  suddenly  rushed 
back,  luminous  and  searing,  upon  Harold's  memory,  the 
dream  long  forgotten,  or  but  dimly  remembered  in  the 
healthful  business  of  life  —  the  guile  and  the  wirble  of 
the  dead  men's  bones. 

"At  that  sight,"  say  the  Norman  chronicles,  "the  earl 
shnddered  and  trembled." 

"Awful,  indeed,  thine  oath,  and  natural  thine  emotion," 
said  the  duke;  "for  in-  that  cyst  are  all  those  relics 
which  religion  deems  the  holiest  in  our  land.  The  dead 
have  heard  thine  oath,  and  the  saints  even  now  record  it 
in  the  halls  of  heaven  !     Cover  again  the  holy  bones ! " 


II— 10 


BOOK   TENTH 


THE    SACRIFICE    ON    THE    ALTAR 


CHAPTER   I. 

The  good  Bishop  Aired,  now  raised  to  the  See  of  York, 
had  been  summoned  from  his  cathedral  seat  by  Edward, 
who  had  indeed  undergone  a  severe  illness,  during  the 
absence  of  Harold  ;  and  that  illness  had  been  both  pre- 
ceded and  followed  by  mystical  presentiments  of  the  evil 
days  that  were  to  fall  on  England  after  his  death.  He 
had  therefore  sent  for  the  best  and  the  holiest  prelate  in 
his  realm,  to  advise  and  counsel  with. 

The  bishop  had  returned  to  his  lodgings  in  London 
(which  was  in  a  Benedictine  Abbey,  not  far  from  the 
Aldgate)  late  one  evening,  from  visiting  the  king  at  his 
rural  palace  of  Havering  ;  and  he  was  seated  alone  in 
his  cell,  musing  over  an  interview  with  Edward,  which 
had  evidently  much  disturbed  him,  when  the  door  was 
abruptly  thrown  open,  and  pushing  aside  in  haste  the 
monk,  who  was  about  formally  to  announce  him,  a  man 
so  travel-stained  in  garb,  and  of  a  mien  so  disordeied, 

(110) 


HAROLD.  Ill 

rushed  in,  that  Aired  gazed  at  first  as  on  a  stranger,  and 
not  till  the  intruder  spoke  did  he  recognize  Harold  the 
Earl.  Even  then,  so  wild  was  the  earl's  eye,  so  dark  his 
brow,  and  so  livid  his  cheek,  that  it  rather  seemed  the 
ghost  of  the  man  than  the  man  himself.  Closing  the 
door  on  the  monk,  the  earl  stood  a  moment  on  the 
threshold,  with  a  breast  heaving  with  emotions  which  he 
sought  in  vain  to  master ;  and,  as  if  resigning  the  effort, 
he  sprang  forward,  clasped  the  prelate's  knees,  bowed 
his  head  on  his  lap,  and  sobbed  aloud.  The  good  bishop, 
who  had  known  all  the  sons  of  Godwin  from  their  infancy, 
and  to  whom  Harold  was  as  dear  as  his  own  child,  fold- 
ing his  hands  over  the  earl's  head,  soothingly  murmured 
a  benediction. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  earl,  starting  to  his  feet,  and  toss- 
ing the  dishevelled  hair  from  his  eyes,  "  Bless  me  not  yet ! 
Hear  my  tale  first,  and  then  say  what  comfort,  what  re- 
fuge, thy  Church  can  bestow!" 

Hurriedly  then  the  earl  poured  forth  the  dark  story, 
already  known  to  the  reader, — the  prison  at  Belrem,  the 
detention  at  William's  court,  the  fears,  the  snares,  the 
discourse  by  the  river-side,  the  oath  over  the  relics.  This 
told,  he  continued  :  "  I  found  myself  in  the  open  air,  and 
knew  not,  till  the  light  of  the  sun  smote  me,  what  might 
have  passed  into  my  soul.  I  was,  before,  as  a  corpse 
which  a  witch  raises  from  the  dead,  endows  with  a  spirit 
not  its  own  —  passive  to  her  hand  —  life-like,  not  living. 
Then,  then  it  was  as  if  a  demon  had  passed  from  my 
body,  laughing  scorn  at  the  foul  things  it  had  made  the 


112  HAROLD. 

clay  do.  Oh,  father,  father!  is  there  not  absolution  from 
this  oath, — an  oath  I  dare  not  keep  ?  rather  perjure  my- 
self than  betray  my  land  ! " 

The  prelate's  face  was  as  pale  as  Harold's,  and  it  was 
some  moments  before  he  could  reply. 

"  The  Church  can  loose  and  unloose — such  is  its  dele- 
gated authority.  But  speak  on  ;  what  saidst  thou  at  the 
last  to  William  ?  » 

"I  know  not,  remember  not — aught  save  these  words. 
1  Now,  then,  give  me  those  for  whom  I  placed  myself  in 
thy  power ;  let  me  restore  Haco  to  his  father-land,  and 
Wolnoth  to  his  mother's  kiss,  and  wend  home  my  way.' 
And,  saints  in  heaven  !  what  was  the  answer  of  this 
caitiff  Norman,  with  his  glittering  eye  and  venomed 
smile  ?  '  Haco  thou  shalt  have,  for  he  is  an  orphan,  and 
an  uncle's  love  is  not  so  hot  as  to  burn  from  a  distance  ; 
but  Wolnoth,  thy  mother's  son,  must  stay  with  me  as  a 
hostage  for  thine  own  faith.  Godwin's  hostages  are  re- 
leased ;  Harold's  hostage  I  retain  :  it  is  but  a  form,  yet 
these  forms  are  the  bonds  of  princes.' 

"  I  looked  at  him,  and  his  eye  quailed.  And  I  said, 
'That  is  not  in  the  compact.'  And  William  answered, 
'No,  but  it  is  the  seal  of  it.'  Then  I  turned  from  the 
duke,  and  I  called  my  brother  to  my  side,  and  I  said, 
1  Over  the  seas  have  I  come  for  thee.  Mount  thy  steed 
and  ride  by  my  side,  for  I  will  not  leave  the  land  without 
thee.'  And  Wolnoth  answered,  '  Nay,  Duke  William  tells 
me  that  he  hath  made  treaties  with  thee,  for  which  I  am 
still  to  be  the  hostage  ;   and  Normandy  has  grown  my 


HAROLD.  US 

home,  and  I  love  William  as  my  lord/  Hot  words  fol- 
lowed, and  Wolnoth,  chafed,  refused  entreaty  and  com- 
mand, and  suffered  me  to  see  that  his  heart  was  not  with 
England  !  O,  mother,  mother,  how  shall  I  meet  thine 
eye  !  So  I  returned  with  Haco.  The  moment  I  set  foot 
on  my  native  England,  that  moment  her  form  seemed  to 
rise  from  the  tall  cliffs,  her  voice  to  speak  in  the  winds ! 
All  the  glamour  by  which  I  had  been  bound,  forsook  me  ; 
and  I  sprang  forward  in  scorn,  above  the  fear  of  the  dead 
men's  bones.  Miserable  over-craft  of  the  snarer  !  Had 
my  simple  word  alone  bound  me,  or  that  word  been  rati- 
fied after  slow  and  deliberate  thought,  by  the  ordinary 
oaths  that  appeal  to  God,  far  stronger  the  bond  upon  my 
soul  than  the  mean  surprise,  the  covert  tricks,  the  insult 
and  the  mocking  fraud.  But  as  I  rode  on,  the  oath  pur- 
sued me — pale  spectres  mounted  behind  me  on  my  steed, 
ghastly  fingers  pointed  from  the  welkin  ;  and  then  sud- 
denly, O  my  father  —  I  who,  sincere  in  my  simple  faith, 
had,  as  thou  knowest  too  well,  never  bowed  submissive 
conscience  to  priest  and  Church  —  then  suddenly  I  felt 
the  might  of  some  power,  surer  guide  than  that  haughty 
conscience  which  had  so  in  the  hour  of  need  betrayed 
me  !  Then  I  recognized  that  supreme  tribunal,  that  me- 
diator between  Heaven  and  man,  to  which  I  might  come 
with  the  dire  secret  of  my  soul,  and  say,  as  I  say  now,  on 
my  bended  knee,  0  father  —  father  —  bid  me  die,  or  ab- 
solve me  from  my  oath  ! " 

Then  Aired  rose  erect,  and  replied,  "  Did  I  need  sub- 
terfuge,  O  son,  I  would  say,  that  William  himself  hath  i 
10*  2g 


Ill  HAROLD. 

released  thy  bond,  in  detaining  the  hostage  against  the 
spirit  of  the  guilty  compact ;  that  in  the  very  words  them- 
st  Ives  of  the  oath,  lies  the  release  —  '  If  God  aid  thee.' 
'  God  aids  no  child  to  parricide  —  and  thou  art  England's 
child  1  But  all  school  casuistry  is  here  a  meanness.  Plain 
is  the  law,  that  oaths  extorted  by  compulsion,  through 
fraud  and  in  fear,  the  Church  hath  the  right  to  loose  : 
plainer  still  the  law  of  God  and  of  man,  that  an  oath  to 
commit  crime  it  is  a  deadlier  sin  to  keep  than  to  forfeit. 
Wherefore,  not  absolving  thee  from  the  misdeed  of  a  vow 
that,  if  trusting  more  to  God's  providence  and  less  to 
man's  vain  strength  and  dim  wit,  thou  wouldst  never  have 
uttered  even  for  England's  sake  —  leaving  her  to  the 
angels ;  —  not,  I  say,  absolving  thee  from  that  sin,  but 
pausing  yet  to  decide  what  penance  and  atonement  to  fix 
to  its  committal,  I  do  in  the  name  of  the  Power  whose 
priest  I  am,  forbid  thee  to  fulfil  the  oath  ;  I  do  release 
and  absolve  thee  from  all  obligation  thereto.  And  if  in 
this  I  exceed  my  authority  as  Romish  priest,  I  do  but 
accomplish  my  duties  as  living  man.  To  these  grey  hairs 
I  take  the  sponsorship.  Before  this  holy  cross,  kneel,  O 
my  son,  with  me,  and  pray  that  a  life  of  truth  and  virtue 
may  atone  the  madness  of  an  hour." 

So  by  the  crucifix  knelt  the  warrior  and  the  priest 


HAROLD.  115 


CHAPTER   II. 

All  other  thought  had  given  vay  to  Harold's  impetu- 
ous yearning  to  throw  himself  upon  the  Church,  to  hear 
his  doom  from  the  purest  and  wisest  of  its  Saxon  preach- 
ers. Had  the  prelate  deemed  his  vow  irrefragable,  he 
would  have  died  the  Roman's  death,  rather  than  live  the 
traitor's  life ;  and  strange  indeed  was  the  revolution 
created  in  this  man's  character,  that  he,  "so  self-depend- 
ent," he  who  had  hitherto  deemed  himself  his  sole  judge 
below  of  cause  and  action,  now  felt  the  whole  life  of  his 
life  committed  to  the  word  of  a  cloistered  shaveling.  All 
other  thought  had  given  way  to  that  fiery  impulse — home, 
mother,  Edith,  king,  power,  policy,  ambition  !  Till  the 
weight  was  from  his  soul,  he  was  as  an  outlaw  in  his 
native  land.  But  when  the  next  sun  rose,  and  that  awful 
burthen  was  lifted  from  his  heart  and  his  being  —  when 
his  own  calm  sense,  returning,  sanctioned  the  fiat  of  the 
priest, — when,  though  with  deep  shame  and  rankling  re- 
morse at  the  memory  of  the  vow,  he  yet  felt  exonerated, 
not  from  the  guilt  of  having  made,  but  the  deadlier  guilt 
of  fulfilling  it, — all  the  objects  of  existence  resumed  their 
natural  interest,  softened  and  chastened,  but  still  vivid  in 
the  heart  restored  to  humanity.  But  from  that  time, 
Harold's  stern  philosophy  and  stoic  ethics  were  shaken 


IB  HAROLD. 

to  the  dust ;  re-created,  as  it  were,  by  the  breath  of  re- 
ligion, he  adopted  its  tenets  even  after  the  fashion  of  his 
age.  The  secret  of  his  shame,  the  error  of  his  conscience, 
humbled  him.  Those  unlettered  monks  whom  he  had  so 
despised,  how  had  he  lost  the  right  to  stand  aloof  from 
their  control !  how  had  his  wisdom,  and  his  strength,  and 
his  courage,  met  unguarded  the  hour  of  temptation  ! 

Yes,  might  the  time  come,  when  England  could  spare 
him  from  her  side  !  when  he,  like  Sweyn  the  outlaw, 
could  pass  a  pilgrim  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  there, 
as  the  creed  of  the  age  taught,  win  full  pardon  for  the 
single  lie  of  his  truthful  life,  and  regain  the  old  peace  of 
his  stainless  conscience  ! 

There  are  sometimes  event  and  season  in  the  life  of 
man  the  hardest  and  most  rational,  when  he  is  driven 
perforce  to  faith  the  most  implicit  and  submissive  ;  as  the 
storm  drives  the  wings  of  the  petrel  over  a  measureless 
sea,  till  it  falls  tame,  and  rejoicing  at  refuge,  on  the  sails 
of  some  lonely  ship.  Seasons  when  difficulties,  against 
which  reason  seems  stricken  into  palsy,  leave  him  be- 
wildered in  dismay  —  when  darkness,  which  experience 
cannot  pierce,  wraps  the  conscience,  as  sudden  night 
wraps  the  traveller  in  the  desert  —  when  error  entangles 
his  feet  in  its  inextricable  web  —  when,  still  desirous  of 
the  right,  he  sees  before  him  but  a  choice  of  evil ;  and 
the  Angel  of  the  Past,  with  a  flaming  sword,  closes  on 
him  the  gates  of  the  Future.  Then,  Faith  flashes  on 
him,  with  a  light  from  the  cloud.  Then,  he  clings  to 
Prayer  as  a  drowning  wretch  to  the  plank. .   Then,  that 


HAROLD.  117 

solemn  authority  which  clothes  the  Priest,  as  the  inter- 
preter between  the  soul  and  the  Divinity,  seizes  on  the 
heart  that  trembles  with  terror  and  joy  ;  then,  that  mys 
terious  recognition  of  Atonement,  of  sacrifice,  of  purify- 
ing lustration  (mystery  which  lies  hid  in  the  core  of  all 
religions),  smooths  the  frown  on  the  Past,  removes  the 
flaming  sword  from  the  Future.  The  Orestes  escapes 
from  the  hounding  Furies,  and  follows  the  oracle  to  the 
spot  where  the  cleansing  dews  shall  descend  on  the  ex- 
piated guilt. 

He  who  hath  never  known  in  himself,  nor  marked  in 
another,  such  strange  crisis  in  human  fate,  cannot  judge 
of  the  strength  and  the  weakness  it  bestows.  But  till  he 
can  so  judge,  the  spiritual  part  of  all  history  is  to  him  a 
blank  scroll,  a  sealed  volume.  He  cannot  comprehend 
what  drove  the  fierce  Heathen,  cowering  and  humbled, 
into  the  fold  of  the  Church  ;  what  peopled  Egypt  with 
eremites ;  what  lined  the  roads  of  Europe  and  Asia  with 
pilgrim  homicides  ;  what,  in  the  elder  world,  while  Jove 
yet  reigned  on  Olympus,  is  couched  in  the  dim  traditions 
of  the  expiation  of  Apollo,  the  joy-god,  descending  into 
Hades ;  or  why  the  sinner  went  blithe  and  light-hearted 
from  the  healing  lustrations  of  Eleusis.  In  all  these 
solemn  riddles  of  the  Jove  world,  and  the  Christ's,  is  in- 
volved the  imperious  necessity  that  man  hath  of  repent- 
ance and  atonement :  through  their  clouds,  as  a  rain- 
bow, shines  the  covenant  that  reconciles  the  God  and  the 
man. 

Now  Life  with  strong  arms  plucked  the  reviving  Ha- 


IIS  HAROLD. 

rold  to  itself.  Already  the  news  of  his  return  had  spread 
through  the  city,  and  his  chamber  soon  swarmed  with 
joyous  welcomes  and  anxious  friends.  But  the  first  con- 
gratulations over,  each  had  tidings,  that  claimed  his  in- 
stant attention,  to  relate.  His  absence  had  sufficed  to 
loosen  half  the  links  of  that  ill-woven  empire. 

All  the  North  was  in  arms.  Northumbria  had  revolted 
as  one  man,  from  the  tyrannous  cruelty  of  Tostig ;  the 
insurgents  had  marched  upon  York  ;  Tostig  had  fled  in 
dismay,  none  as  yet  knew  whither.  The  sons  of  Algar 
had  sallied  forth  from  their  Mercian  fortresses,  and  were 
now  in  the  ranks  of  the  Northumbrians,  who  it  was 
rumored  had  selected  Morcar  (the  elder)  in  the  place  of 
Tostig. 

Amidst  these  disasters,  the  king's  health  was  fast  de- 
caying :  his  mind  seemed  bewildered  and  distraught ;  dark 
ravings  of  evil  portent  that  had  escaped  from  his  lip  in 
his  mystic  reveries  and  visions,  had  spread  abroad,  ban- 
died with  all  natural  exaggerations,  from  lip  to  lip.  The 
country  was  in  one  state  of  gloomy  and  vague  apprehen- 
sion. 

But  all  would  go  well,  now  Harold  the  great  earl  — 
Harold  the  stout,  and  the  wise,  and  the  loved — had  come 
back  to  his  native  land  ! 

In  feeling  himself  thus  necessary  to  England, — all  eyes, 
all  hopes,  all  hearts  turned  to  him,  and  to  him  alone,  — 
Harold  shook  the  evil  memories  from  his  soul,  as  a  lion 
shakes  the  dews  from  his  mane.  His  intellect,  that  seemed 
to  have  burned  dim  and  through  smoke  in  scenes  unfa- 


HAROLD  119 

miliar  to  its  exercise,  rose  at  once  equal  to  the  occasion. 
His  words  reassured  the  most  despondent.  His  orders 
were  prompt  and  decisive.  While,  to  and  fro,  went  forth 
his  bodes  and  his  riders,  he  himself  leaped  on  his  horse, 
and  rode  fast  to  Havering. 

At  length,  that  sweet  and  lovely  retreat  broke  on  his 
sight,  as  a  bower  through  the  bloom  of  a  garden.  This 
was  Edward's  favorite  abode  :  he  had  built  it  himseif  for 
his  private  devotions,  allured  by  its  woody  solitudes,  and 
the  gloom  of  its  copious  verdure.  Here  it  was  said,  that 
once  at  night,  wandering  through  the  silent  glades,  and 
musing  on  heaven,  the  loud  song  of  the  nightingales  had 
disturbed  his  devotions ;  with  vexed  and  impatient  soul, 
he  had  prayed  that  the  music  might  be  stilled ;  and  since 
then,  never  more  the  nightingale  was  heard  in  the  shades 
of  Havering  ! 

Threading  the  woodland,  melancholy  yet  glorious  with 
the  hues  of  autumn,  Harold  reached  the  low  and  humble 
gate  pf  the  timber  edifice,  all  covered  with  creepers  and 
young  ivy  ;  and  in  a  few  moments  more  he  stood  in  the 
presence  of  the  king. 

Edward  raised  himself  with  pain  from  the  couch  on 
which  he  was  reclined,*  beneath  a  canopy  supported  by 
carved  symbols  of  the  bell-towers  of  Jerusalem  ;  and  his 
languid  face  brightened  at  the  sight  of  Harold.  Behind 
the  king  stood  a  man  with  a  Danish  battle-axe  in  his 
hand,  the  captain  of  the  royal  house-carles,  who,  on  a 
sign  from  the  king,  withdrew. 

*  Bayeux  tapestry. 


120  HAROLD 

-'Thou  art  come  back,  Harold,"  said  Edward  then,  in 
a  feeble  voice  ;  and  the  earl  drawing  near,  was  grieved 
and  shocked  at  the  alteration  of  his  face.  "  Thou  art 
come  back,  to  aid  this  benumbed  hand,  from  which  the 
earthly  sceptre  is  about  to  fall.  Hush  !  for  it  is  so,  and 
I  rejoice."  Then  examining  Harold's  features,  yet  pale 
with  recent  emotions,  and  now  saddened  by  sympathy 
with  the  king,  he  resumed  :  —  "  Well,  man  of  this  world, 
that  went  forth  confiding  in  thine  own  strength,  and  in 
the  faith  of  men  of  the  world  like  thee,  —  well,  were  my 
warnings  prophetic,  or  art  thou  contented  with  thy  mis- 
sion ?  " 

"Alas  !  "  said  Harold,  mournfully.  "Thy  wisdom  was 
greater  than  mine,  0  king ;  and  dread  the  snares  laid  for 
me  and  our  native  land,  under  pretext  of  a  promise  made 
by  thee  to  Count  William,  that  he  should  reign  in  Eng- 
land, should  he  be  your  survivor." 

Edward's  face  grew  troubled  and  embarrassed.  "  Such 
promise,"  he  said  falteringly,  "  when  I  knew  not  the  laws 
of  England,  nor  that  a  realm  could  not  pass  like  house 
and  hyde,  by  a  man's  single  testament,  might  well  escape 
from  my  thoughts,  never  too  bent  upon  earthly  affairs. 
But  I  marvel  not  that  my  cousin's  mind  is  more  tenacious 
and  mundane.  And  verily,  in  those  vague  words,  and 
from  thy  visit,  I  see  the  Future  dark  with  fate  and  crim- 
son with  blood." 

Then  Edward's  eyes  grew  locked  and  set,  staring  into 
space  ;  and  even  that  reverie,  though  it  awed  him,  relieved 
Harold  of  much  disquietude,  for  he  rightly  conjectured, 


HAROLD.  121 

that  on  waking  from  it  Edward  would  press  him  no  more 
as  to  those  details  and  dilemmas  of  conscience,  of  which 
he  felt  that  the  arch-worshipper  of  relics  was  no  fitting 
judge. 

When  the  king,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  evinced  return  from 
the  world  of  vision,  he  stretched  forth  to  Harold  his  wan, 
transparent  hand,  and  said  :  — 

"  Thou  seest  the  ring  on  this  finger;  it  comes  to  me 
from  above,  a  merciful  token  to  prepare  my  soul  for 
death.  Perchance  thou  mayest  have  heard  that  once  an 
aged  pilgrim  stopped  me  on  my  way  from  God's  house, 
and  asked  for  alms  —  and  I,  having  nought  else  on  my 
person  to  bestow,  drew  from  my  finger  a  ring,  and  gave 
it  to  him,  and  the  old  man  went  his  way,  blessing  me." 

"  I  mind  me  well  of  thy  gentle  charity,"  said  the  earl ; 
11  for  the  pilgrim  bruited  it  abroad  as  he  passed,  and 
much  talk  was  there  of  it." 

The  king  smiled  faintly.  "Now  this  was  years  ago. 
It  so  chanced  this  year,  that  certain  Englishers,  on  their 
way  from  the  Holy  Land,  fell  in  with  two  pilgrims — and 
these  last  questioned  them  much  of  me.  And  one,  with 
face  venerable  and  benign,  drew  forth  a  ring  and  said, 
'  When  thou  readiest  England,  give  thou  this  to  the 
king's  own  hand,  and  say,  by  this  token,  that  on  Twelfth- 
Day  Eve  he  shall  be  with  me.  For  what  he  gave  to  me, 
will  I  prepare  recompense  without  bound  ;  and  already 
the  saints  deck  for  the  new-comer  the  halls  where  the 
worm  never  gnaws    and  the    moth  never  frets. J     'And 

who,'  asked  my  subjects  amazed,  '  who  shall  we  say  speak- 
II.  — 11 


22  HAROLD. 

eth  thus  to  us?"  And  the  pilgrim  answered,  'He  oh 
whose  breast  leaned  the  Son  of  God,  and  my  name  is 
John  !  '*  Wherewith  the  apparition  vanished.  This  is 
the  ring  I  gave  to  the  pilgrim  ;  on  the  fourteenth  night 
from  thy  parting,  miraculously  returned  to  me.  Where- 
fore, Harold,  my  time  here  is  brief,  and  I  rejoice  that  thy 
coming  delivers  me  up  from  the  cares  of  state  to  the  pre- 
paration of  my  soul  for  the  joyous  day." 

Harold,  suspecting  under  this  incredible  mission  some 
ivily  device  of  the  Norman,  who,  by  thus  warning  Edward 
(of  whose  precarious  health  he  was  well  aware),  might 
induce  his  timorous  conscience  to  take  steps  for  the  com- 
pletion of  the  old  promise.  —  Harold,  we  say,  thus  sus- 
pecting, in  vain  endeavored  to  combat  the  king's  present- 
iments, but  Edward  interrupted  him,  with  displeased 
firmness  of  look  and  tone  — 

"  Come  not  thou,  with  thy  human  reasonings,  between 
my  soul  and  the  messenger  divine  ;  but  rather  nerve  and 
prepare  thyself  for  the  dire  calamities  that  lie  greeding 
in  the  days  to  come  !  Be  thine,  things  temporal.  All 
the  land  is  in  rebellion.  Anlaf,  whom  thy  coming  dis- 
missed, hath  just  wearied  me  with  sad  tales  of  bloodshed 
and  ravage.  Go  and  hear  him  ;  —  go  hear  the  bodes  of 
thy  brother  Tostig,  who  wait  without  in  our  hall ;  go, 
take  axe,  and  take  shield,  and  the  men  of  earth's  war, 

*  Ail.  de  Vit.  Edw. — Many  other  chroniclers  mention  this  legend, 
of  which  the  stones  of  Westminster  Abbey  itself  prated,  in  the 
statues  of  Edward  and  the  Pilgrim,  placed  over  the  arch  ir  Dean's 
Yard. 


HAROLD.  123 

and  do  justice  and  right ;  and  on  thy  return  thou  shalt 
see  with  what  rapture  sublime  a  Christian  king  can  soar 
aloft  from  his  throne  !     Go  ! " 

More  moved,  and  more  softened,  than  in  the  former 
day  he  had  been  with  Edward's  sincere,  if  fanatical  piety, 
Harold,  turning  aside  to  conceal  his  face,  said,  — 

14  Would,  0  royal  Edward,  that  my  heart,  amidst  worldly 
cares,  were  as  pure  and  serene  as  thine  !  But,  at  least, 
what  erring  mortal  may  do  to  guard  this  realm,  and  face 
the  evils  thou  foreseest  in  the  Far — that  will  I  do  ;  and, 
perchance  then,  in  my  dying  hour,  God's  pardon  and 
peace  may  descend  on  me  ! "     He  spoke,  and  went. 

The  accounts  he  received  from  Anlaf  (a  veteran  Anglo- 
Dane),  were  indeed  more  alarming  than  he  had  yet  heard. 
Morcar,  the  bold  son  of  Algar,  was  already  proclaimed, 
oy  the  rebels,  earl  of  Northumbria  ;  the  shires  of  Not- 
tingham, Derby,  and  Lincoln,  had  poured  forth  their 
hardy  Dane  populations  on  his  behalf.  All'  Mercia  was 
in  arms  under  his  brother  Edwin  ;  and  many  of  the  Cym- 
rian  chiefs  had  already  joined  the  ally  of  the  butchered 
Gryffyth. 

Not  a  moment  did  the  earl  lose  in  proclaiming  the 
Her-bann  ;  sheaves  of  arrows  were  splintered,  and  the 
fragments,  as  announcing  the  War-Fyrd,  were  sent  from 
thegn  to  thegn,  and  town  to  town.  Fresh  messengers 
were  despatched  to  Gurth  to  collect  the  whole  force  of 
his  own  earldom,  and  haste  by  quick  marches  to  London  ; 
and,  these  preparations  made,  Harold  returned  to  the 
metropolis,  and  with  a  heavy  heart  sought  his  mother,  as 
his  next  care. 


124  HAROLD 

Githa  was  already  prepared  for  his  news  ;  for  Haco 
had  of  his  own  accord  gone  to  break  the  first  shock  of 
disappointment.  There  was  in  this  youth  a  noiseless 
sagacity  that  seemed  ever  provident  for  Harold.  With 
his  sombre,  smileless  cheek,  and  gloom  of  beauty,  bowed 
as  if  beneath  the  weight  of  some  invisible  doom,  he  had 
already  become  linked  indissolubly  with  the  earl's  fate,  as 
its  angel, — but  as  its  angel  of  darkness! 

To  Harold's  intense  relief,  Githa  stretched  forth  her 
hands  as  he  entered,  and  said,  "  Thou  hast  failed  me,  but 
against  thy  will  !     Grieve  not ;  I  am  content  ! " 

"Now  our  Lady  be  blessed,  mother  — " 

"  I  have  told  her,"  said  Haco,  who  was  standing,  with 
arms  folded,  by  the  fire,  the  blaze  of  which  reddened  fit- 
fully his  hueless  countenance  with  its  raven  hair  ;  "  I  have 
told  thy  mother  that  Wolnoth  loves  his  captivity,  and 
enjoys  the  cage.  And  the  lady  hath  had  comfort  in  my 
words." 

"  Not  in  thine  only,  son  of  Sweyn,  but  in  those  of 
fate  :  for  before  thy  coming  I  prayed  against  the  long 
blind  yearning  of  my  heart,  prayed  that  Wolnoth  might 
not  cross  the  sea  with  his  kinsmen." 

"  How  ! "  exclaimed  the  earl,  astonished. 

Githa  took  his  arm,  and  led  him  to  the  farther  end  of 
the  ample  chamber,  as  if  out  of  the  hearing  of  Haco,  who 
turned  his  face  towards  the  fire,  and  gazed  into  the  fierce 
blaze  with  muzing,  unwinking  eyes. 

"  Couldst  thou  think,  Harold,  that  in  thy  journey,  that 
on  the  errand  of  so  great  fear  and  hope,  I  could  sit  brood- 


HAROLD.  125 

ing  in  my  chair,  and  count  the  stitches  on  the  tremulous 
hangings  ?  No  :  day  by  day  have  I  sought  the  lore  or 
Hilda,  and  at  night  I  have  watched  with  her  by  the  fount, 
and  the  elm,  and  the  tomb  ;  and  I  know  that  thou  hast 
gone  through  dire  peril;  the  prison,  the  war,  and  the 
snare  ;  and  I  know  also,  that  his  Fylgia  hath  saved  the 
life  of  my  Wolnoth  ;  for  had  he  returned  to  his  native 
land,  he  had  returned  but  to  a  bloody  grave  ! " 

"  Says  Hilda  this  ? "  said  the  earl,  thoughtfully. 

"  So  say  the  Yala,  the  rune,  and  the  Scin-lseca  !  and 
such  is  the  doom  that  now  darkens  the  brow  of  Haco  ! 
Seest  thou  not  that  the  hand  of  death  is  in  the  hush  of 
the  smileless  lip,  and  the  glance  of  the  unjoyous  eye  ?  " 

"  Nay,  it  is  but  the  thought  born  to  captive  youth,  and 
nurtured  in  solitary  dreams.  Thou  hast  seen  Hilda  ?  — 
and  Edith,  my  mother?  Edith  is  — " 

"Well,"  said  Githa  kindly,  for  she  sympathized  with 
that  love  which  Godwin  would  have  condemned,  "  though 
she  grieved  deeply  after  thy  departure,  and  would  sit  for 
hours  gazing  into  space,  and  moaning.  But  even  ere 
Hilda  divined  thy  safe  return,  Edith  knew  it ;  I  was  be- 
side her  at  the  time  ;  she  started  up,  and  cried — '  Harold 
is  in  England  ! 9 — '  How  ?  Why  thinkest  thou  so  ? !  said 
I  And  Edith  answered,  '  I  feel  it  by  the  touch  of  the 
earth,  by  the  breath  of  the  air.'  This  is  more  than  love, 
Harold.  I  knew  two  twins  who  had  the  same  instinct  of 
each  other's  comings  and  goings,  and  were  present  each 
to  each  even  when  absent :  Edith  is  twin  to  thy  soul. 

Thou  goest  to  her  now,  Harold  :  thou  wilt  find  there  thy 
11* 


126  HAROLD. 

sister  Thyra.     The  child  hath  drooped  of  late,  and  I  be 
sought  Hilda  to  revive  her,  with  herb  and  charm.     Thou 
wilt  come  back   ere  thou  departest  to    aid  Tostig,  thy 
brother,  and  tell  me  how  Hilda  hath  prospered  with  my 
ailing  child  ?" 

"  I  will,  my  mother.  Be  cheered  !  —  Hilda  is  a  skilful 
nurse.  And  now  bless  thee,  that  thou  hast  not  reproached 
me  that  my  mission  failed  to  fulfil  my  promise.  Welcome 
even  our  kinswoman's  sayings,  sith  they  comfort  thee  for 
the  loss  of  thy  darling  ! w 

Then  Harold  left  the  room,  mounted  his  steed,  and 
rode  through  the  town  towards  the  bridge.  He  was  com- 
pelled to  ride  slowly  through  the  streets,  for  he  was 
recognized  ;  and  cheapman  and  mechanic  rushed  from 
house  and  from  stall  to  hail  the  Man  of  the  Land  and  the 
Time. 

"  All  is  safe  now  in  England,  for  Harold  is  come  back  ! n 
They  seemed  joyous  as  the  children  of  the  mariner,  when, 
with  wet  garments,  he  struggles  to  shore  through  the 
storm.  And  kind  and  loving  were  Harold's  looks  and 
brief  words,  as  he  rode  with  vailed  bonnet  through  the 
swarming  streets. 

At  length  he  cleared  the  town  and  the  bridge  ;  and  the 
yellowing  boughs  of  the  orchards  drooped  over  the  road 
towards  the  Roman  home,  when,  as  he  spurred  his  steed, 
he  heard  behind  him  hoofs  as  in  pursuit,  looked  back, 
and  beheld  Haco.  He  drew  rein, — "  What  wantest  thou, 
my  nephew  ?  " 


HAROLD.  127 

"  Thee  !  "  answered  Haco,  briefly,  as  Up.  gained  his  side. 
"  Thy  companionship." 

"Thanks,  Haco;  but  I  pray  thee  to  stay  in  my 
mother's  house,  for  I  would  fain  ride  alone." 

"  Spurn  me  not  from  thee,  Harold  !  This  England  is 
to  me  the  land  of  the  stranger ;  in  thy  mother's  house  I 
feel  but  the  more  the  orphan.  Henceforth  I  have  devoted 
to  thee  my  life  !  And  my  life  my  dead  and  dread  father 
hath  left  to  thee,  as  a  doom  or  a  blessing;  wherefore 
cleave  I  to  thy  side  ;  — cleave  we  in  life  and  in  death  to 
each  other ! " 

An  undefined  and  cheerless  thrill  shot  through  the 
earl's  heart  as  the  youth  spoke  thus  ;  and  the  remem- 
brance that  Haco's  counsel  had  first  induced  him  to 
abandon  his  natural  hardy  and  gallant  manhood,  meet 
wile  by  wile,  and  thus  suddenly  entangled  him  in  his  own 
meshes,  had  already  mingled  an  inexpressible  bitterness 
with  his  pity  and  affection  for  his  brother's  son.  But 
struggling  against  that  uneasy  sentiment,  as  unjust  to- 
wards one  to  whose  counsel  —  however  sinister,  and  now 
repented  —  he  probably  owed,  at  least,  his  safety  and 
deliverance,  he  replied  gently,  — 

"  I  accept  thy  trust  and  thy  love,  Haco  !  Ride  with 
me,  then  ;  but  pardon  a  dull  comrade,  for  when  the  soul 
communes  with  itself  the  lip  is  silent." 

"True,"  said  Haco,  "and  I  am  no  babbler.  Three 
things  are  ever  silent :  Thought,  Destiny,  and  the  Grave." 

Each  then,  pursuing  his  own  fancies,  rode  on  fast,  and 
side  by  side  ;  the  long  shadows  of  declining  day  struggling 


128  HAROLD. 

with  a  sky  of  unusual  brightness,  and  thrown  from  the 
dim  forest  trees  and  the  distant  hillocks.  Alternately 
through  shade  and  through  light  rode  they  on ;  the  bulls 
gazing  on  them  from  holt  and  glade,  and  the  boom  of 
the  bittern  sounding  in  its  peculiar  mournfulness  of  tone 
as  it  rose  from  the  dank  poolsv  that  glistened  in  the 
western  sun. 

It  was  always  by  the  rear  of  the  house,  where  stood 
the  ruined  temple,  so  associated  with  the  romance  of  his 
life,  that  Harold  approached  the  home  of  the  Yala ;  and 
as  now  the  hillock,  with  its  melancholy  diadem  of  stones, 
came  in  view,  Haco  for  the  first  time  bro'ke  the  silence. 

"  Again  —  as  in  a  dream  ;  "  he  said  abruptly.  "  Hill, 
ruin,  grave-mound  —  but  where  the  tall  image  of  the 
mighty  one  ?  " 

"Hast  thou  then  seen  this  spot  before?"  asked  the 
earl. 

"  Yea,  as  an  infant  here  was  I  led  by  my  father  Sweyn  ; 
here  too,  from  thy  house  yonder,  dim  seen  through  the 
fading  leaves,  on  the  eve  before  I  left  this  land  for  the 
Norman,  here  did  I  wander  alone  ;  and  there,  by  that 
altar,  did  the  great  Yala  of  the  North  chaunt  her  runes 
for  my  future." 

"  Alas  !  thou  too  ! "  murmured  Harold  ;  and  then  he 
asked  aloud,   "What  said  she?" 

11  That  thy  life  and  mine  crossed  each  other  in  the 
skein  ;  that  I  should  save  thee  from  a  great  peril,  and 
share  with  thee  a  greater." 

"Ah,  youth,"  answered  Harold  bitterly,  "these  vain 


HAROLD.  129 

prophecies  of  human  wit  guard  the  soul  from  no  danger. 
They  mislead  us  by  riddles  which  our  hot  hearts  interpret  j 
according   to   their   own   desires.     Keep   thou   fast    to 
youth's  simple  wisdom,  and  trust  only  to  the  pure  spirit 
and  the  watchful  God." 

He  suppressed  a  groan  as  he  spoke,  and  springing  from 
his  steed,  which  he  left  loose,  advanced  up  the  hill. 
When  he  had  gained  the  height,  he  halted,  and  made 
sign  to  Hacc,  who  had  also  dismounted,  to  do  the  same. 
Half-way  down  the  side  of  the  slope  which  faced  the 
ruined  peristyle,  Haco  beheld  a  maiden,  still  young,  and 
of  beauty  surpassing  all  that  the  court  of  Normandy 
boasted  of  female  loveliness.  i  She  was  seated  on  the 
sward; — while  a  girl,  younger,  and  scarcely  indeed 
grown  into  womanhood,  reclined  at  her  feet,  and  leaning 
her  cheek  upon  her  hand,  seemed  hushed  in  listening 
attention.  In  the  face  of  the  younger  girl  Haco  recog- 
nized Thyra,  the  last-born  of  Githa,  though  he  had  but 
once  seen  her  before  —  the  day  ere  he  left  England  for 
the  Norman  court  —  for  the  face  of  the  girl  was  but  little 
changed,  save  that  the  eye  was  more  mournful,  and  the 
cheek  was  paler. 

And  Harold's  betrothed  was  singing,  in  the  still  autumn 
air,  to  Harold's  sister.  The  song  chosen  was  on  that 
subject  the  most  popular  with  the  Saxon  poets,  the  mystic 
life,  death,  and  resurrection  of  the  fabled  Phoenix ;  and 
this  rhymeless  song,  in  its  old  native  flow,  may  yet  find 
some  grace  in  the  modern  ear. 
11*  2h 


130  HAROLD. 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  PH(ENIX  * 

"Shineth  far  hence  —  so 
Sing  the  wise  elders  — 
Far  to  the  fire  east 
The  fairest  of  lands. 

"  Daintily  dight  is  that 
Dearest  of  joy  fields; 
Breezes  all  balm-y-filled 
Glide  through  its  groves. 

"  There  to  the  blest,  ope 

The  high  doors  of  heaven, 
Sweetly  sweep  earthward 
Their  wavelets  of  song.  ' 

"Frost  robes  the  sward  not,  ^ 

Rushes  ik>  hail-steed ; 
Wind-cloud  ne'er  wanders, 
Ne'er  falleth  the  rain. 

"  Warding  the  woodholt, 
Girt  with  gay  wonder, 
Sheen  with  the  plumy  shine, 
Phoenix  abides. 

"Lord  of  the  Lleod,f 

Whose  home  is  the  air, 
Winters  a  thousand 
Abideth  the  bird. 

I  *  This  ancient  Saxon  lay,  apparently  of  the  date  of  the  tenth  or 
eleventh  century,  may  be  found,  admirably  translated  by  Mr. 
George  Stephens,  in  the  ArchsGologia,  vol.  xxx.  p.  259.  In  the 
Itext  the  poem  is  much  abridged,  reduced  into  rhythm,  and  in  some 
'stanzas  wholly  altered  from  the  original ;  but  it  is,  nevertheless, 
greatly  indebted  to  Mr.  Stephen's  translation,  from  which  several 
lines  are  borrowed  verbatim.  The  more  careful  reader  will  note 
the  great  aid  given  to  a  rhymeless  metre  by  alliteration.  I  am  not 
sure  that  this  old  Saxon  mode  of  verse  might  not  be  profitably  re- 
stored to  our  national  muse. 
t  People. 


HAROLD.  13] 


"Hapless  and  heavy  then 
Waxeth  the  hazy  wing; 
Year-worn  and  old  in  the 
Whirl  of  the  earth. 

"Then  the  high  holt-top, 

Mounting,   the  bird  soars; 
There,  where  the  winds  sleep, 
He  buildeth  a  nest;  — 

"Gums  the  most  precious,  and 
Balms  of  the  sweetest, 
Spices  and  odors,  he 
Weaves  in  the  nest. 

"  There,  in  that  sun-ark,  lo, 
Waiteth  he  wistful; 
Summer  comes  smiling,  lo, 
Rays  smite  the  pile! 

"Burden'd  with  eld-years,  and 
Weary  with  slow  time, 
Slow  in  his  odor-nest, 
Burnetii  the  bird. 

"Up  from  those  ashes,  then, 
Springeth  a  rare  fruit; 
Deep  in  the  rare  fruit 
There  coileth  a  worm. 

"  Weaving  bliss-meshes 
Around  and  around  it, 
Silent  and  blissful,  the 
Worm  worketh  on. 

"Lo,  from  the  airy  web, 

Blooming  ancl  brightsome, 
Young  and  exulting,  the 
Phoenix  breaks  forth. 

"Round  him  the  birds  troop* 
Singing  and  hailing; 
Wings  of  all  glories 
Engarland  the  king. 


*$  HAROLD. 

"  Hymning  and  hailing, 

Through  forest  and  sun-air, 
Hymning  and  hailing, 
And  speaking  him  'King.' 

"High  flies  the  phoenix, 

Escaped  from  the  worm-web* 
He  goars  in  the  sun-light, 
He  bathes  in  the  dew. 

"  He  visits  his  old  haunts, 
The  holt  and  the  sun-hill; 
The  founts  of  his  youth,  and 
The  fields  of  his  love. 

"  The  stars  in  the  welkin, 
The  blooms  on  the  earth, 
Are  glad  in  his  gladness, 
Are  young  in  his  youth. 

«*  While  round  him  the  birds  troop,  the 
Hosts  of  the  Himmel,* 
Blisses  of  music,  and 
Glories  of  wings; 

"  Hymning  and  hailing, 
And  filling  the  sun-air 
With  music  and  glory 
And  praise  of  the  king." 

As  the  lay  ceased,  Thyra  said, — 

"Ah,  Edith,  who  would  not  brave  the  funeral-pyre  to 
Il7e  again  like  the  phoenix ! " 

"  Sweet  sister  mine,"  answered  Edith,  "  the  singer  doth 
mean  to  image  out  in  the  phoenix  the  rising  of  our  Lord, 
in  whom  we  all.  live  again." 

And  Thyra  said  mournfully, — 


*  Heaven. 

<7 


HAROLD.  133 

"  But  the  phoenix  sees  once  more  the  haunts  of  his 
youth —  the  things  and  places  dear  to  him  in  his  life  be- 
ore.     Shall  we  do  the  same,  0  Edith?" 

"It  is  the  persons  we  love  that  make  beautiful  the 
haunts  we  have  known,"  answered  the  betrothed.  "  Those 
persons  at  least  we  shall  behold  again,  and  wherever  they 
are — there  is  heaven." 

Harold  could  restrain  himself  no  longer.  With  one 
bound  he  was  at  Edith's  side,  and  with  one  wild  cry  of 
joy  he  clasped  her  to  his  heart. 

"  I  knew  that  thou  wouldst  come  to-night — I  knew  it, 
Harold,"  murmured  the  betrothed. 


CHAPTER   III. 

While,  full  of  themselves,  Harold  and  Edith  wandered, 
nand  in  hand,  through  the  neighboring  glades  —  while 
into  that  breast  which  had  forestalled,  at  least,  in  this 
pure  and  sublime  union,  the  wife's  privilege  to  soothe  and 
console,  the  troubled  man  poured  out  the  tale  of  the  sole 
trial  from  which  he  had  passed  with  defeat  and  shame, — 
Haco  drew  near  to  Thyra,  and  sate  down  by  her  side. 
fifich  was  strangely  attracted  towards  the  other ;  there 
was  something  congenial  in  the  gloom  which  they  shared 
in  common  ;  though  in  the  girl  the  sadness  was  soft  and 
resigned,  in  the  youth  it  was  stern  and  solemn.  They 
conversed  in  whispers,  and  their  talk  was  strange  for 
II.— 12  M 


]34  HAROLD. 

companions  so  young ;  for,  whether  suggested  by  Edith's 
song,  or  the  neighborhood  of  the  Saxon  grave-stone, 
which  gleamed  on  their  eyes,  grey  and  wan,  through  the 
crommel,  the  theme  they  selected  was  of  Death.  As  if 
fascinated  as  children  often  are,  by  the  terrors  of  the 
Dark  King,  they  dwelt v on  those  images  with  which  the 
northern  fancy  has  associated  the  eternal  rest,  —  on  the 
shroud  and  the  worm,  and  the  mouldering  bones — on  the 
gibbering  ghost,  and  the  sorcerer's  spell  that  could  call 
the  spectre  from  the  grave.  They  talked  of  the  pain  of 
the  parting  soul,  parting  while  earth  was  yet  fair,  youth 
fresh,  and  joy  not  yet  ripened  from  the  blossom — of  the 
wistful  lingering  look  which  the  glazing  eyes  would  give 
to  the  latest  sunlight  it  should  behold  on  earth  ;  and  then 
pictured  the  shivering  and  naked  soul,  forced  from  the 
reluctant  clay,  wandering  through  cheerless  space  to  the 
intermediate  tortures,  which  the  Church  taught  that  none 
were  so  pure  as  not  for  a  while  to  undergo ;  and  hearing, 
as  it  wandered,  the  knell  of  the  muffled  bells  and  the 
burst  of  unavailing  prayer.  At  length  Haco  paused 
abruptly,  and  said, — 

"But  thou,  cousin,  hast  before  thee  love  and  sweet 
lire,  and  these  discourses  are  not  for  thee." 

Thyra  shook  her  head  mournfully, — 

"  Not  so,  Haco  ;  for  when  Hilda  consulted  the  runes, 
while,  last  night,  she  mingled  the  herbs  for  my  pain, 
which  rests  ever  hot  and  sharp  here,"  and  the  girl  laid 
her  hand  on  her  breast,  "  I  saw  that  her  face  grew  dark 
and  overcast ;  and  I  felt,  as  I  looked,  that  my  doom  was 


H  A  R  O  L  1)  135 

set.  And  when  thou  didst  come  so  noiselessly  to  iny 
side,  with  thy  sad,  cold  eyes,  0  Haco,  methought  I  saw 
the  Messenger  of  Death.  But  thou  art  strong,  Haco, 
and  life  will  be  long  for  thee  ;  let  us  talk  of  Life." 

Haco  stooped  down  and  pressed  his  lips  upon  the  girl's 
pale  forehead. 

"Kiss  me  too,  Thyra." 

The  child  kissed  him,  and  they  sate  silent  and  close  by 
each  other  while  the  sun  set. 

And  as  the  stars  rose,  Harold  and  Edith  joined  them. 
Harold's  face  was  serene  in  the  star-light,  for  the  pure 
soul  of  his  betrothed  had  breathed  peace  into  his  own  ; 
and,  in  his  willing  superstition,  he  felt  as  if,  now  restored 
to  his  guardian  angel,  the  dead  men's  bones  had  released 
their  unhallowed  hold. 

But  suddenly  Edith's  hand  trembled  in  his,  and  her 
form  shuddered.  —  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  those  of 
Haco. 

"  Forgive  me,  young  kinsman,  that  I  forgot  thee  so 
long,"  said  the  earl.  "  This  is  my  brother's  son,  Edith  ; 
thou  hast  not,  that  I  remember,  seen  him  before  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  "  said  Edith,  falteringly. 

"  When,  and  where  ?  " 

Edith's  soul  answered  the  question,  "In  a  dream;" 
but  her  lips  were  silent. 

And  Haco,  rising,  took  her  by  the  hand,  while  the  earl 
turned  to  his  sister — that  sister  whom  he  was  pledged  to 
send  to  the  Norman  court ;  and  Thyra  said  plaintively, — 


136  HAROLD. 

M  Take  me  in  thine  arms,  Harold,  and  wrap  thy  mantle 
round  me,  for  the  air  is  cold." 

The  earl  lifted  the  child  to  his  breast,  and  gazed  on 
her  cheek  long  and  wistfully  ;  then  questioning  her  ten- 
derly, he  took  her  within  the  house ;  and  Edith  followed 
with   Haco. 

"Is  Hilda  within  ?  w  asked  the  son  of  Sweyn. 

"  Kay,  she  hath  been  in  the  forest  since  noon,"  answered 
Edith  with  an  effort,  for  she  could  not  recover  her  awe 
of  his  presence. 

"  Then,"  said  Haco,  halting  at  the  threshold,  "  I  will 
go  across  the  woodland  to  your  house,  Harold,  aud  pre- 
pare your  ceorls  for  your  coming." 

"I  shall  tarry  here  till  Hilda  returns,"  answered  Ha- 
rold, "  and  it  may  be  late  in  the  night  ere  I  reach  home ; 
but  Sexwolf  already  hath  my  orders.  At  sunrise  we 
return  to  London,  and  thence  we  march  on  the  insur- 
gents." 

"  All  shall  be  ready.  Farewell,  noble  Edith ;  and 
thou,  Thyra  my  cousin,  one  kiss  more  to  our  meeting 
again." 

The  child  fondly  held  out  her  arms  to  him,  and  as  she 
kissed  his  cheek,  whispered, — 

"  In  the  grave,  Haco  ! " 

The  young  man  drew  his  mantle  around  him,  and  moved 
away.  But  he  did  not  mount  his  steed,  which  still  grazed 
by  the  road  ;  while  Harold's,  more  familiar  with  the 
place,  had  found  its  way  to  the  stall ;  nor  did  he  take 
his  path  through  the  glades  to  the  house  of  his  kinsman 


HAROLD.  ||t 

Entering  the  Druid  temple,  he  stood  musing  by  the 
Teuton  tomb. 

The  night  grew  deep  and  deeper,  the  stars  more  lumin- 
ous, and  the  air  more  hushed,  when  a  voice  close  at  his 
side,  said  clear  and  abrupt, — 

H  What  does  Youth  the  restless,  by  Death  the  still  ?" 

It  was  the  peculiarity  of  Haco,  that  nothing  ever 
seemed  to  startle  or  surprise  him.  In  that  brooding  boy- 
hood, the  solemn,  quiet,  and  sad  experience  all  fore-armed, 
of  age,  had  something  in  it  terrible  and  preternatural ; 
so,  without  lifting  his  eyes  from  the  stone,  he  answered, — 

"  How  sayest  thou,  0  Hilda,  that  the  dead  are  still  ?" 

Hilda  placed  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  stooped  to 
look  into  his  face. 

"  Thy  rebuke  is  just,  son  of  Sweyn.  In  Time,  and  in 
the  Universe,  there  is  no  stillness  !  Through  all  eternity 
the  state  impossible  to  the  soul  is  repose  !  —  So  again 
thou  art  in  thy  native  land  ? " 

"And  for  what  end,  Prophetess  ?  I  remember,  when 
but  an  infant,  who  till  then  had  enjoyed  the  common  air 
and  the  daily  sun,  thou  didst  ro?>  me  evermore  of  child- 
hood and  youth.  For  thou  didst  say  to  my  father,  that 
1  dark  was  the  woof  of  my  fate,  and  that  its  most  glori- 
ous hour  should  be  its  last !  >  " 

"  But  thou  wert  surely  too  child-like  (I  see  thee  now 
as  thou  wert  then,  stretched  on  the  grass,  and  playing 
with  thy  father's  falcon!) — too  child-like  to' heed  my 
words." 

11  Does  the  new  ground  reject  the  germs  of  the  sower, 
12* 


138  HAROLD. 

or  ttie  young  heart  the  first  lessons  of  wonder  and  awe  ? 
Since  then,  Prophetess,  Night  hath  been  ray  comrade, 
and  Death  my  familiar.  Rememberest  thou  again  the 
hour  when,  stealing,  a  boy,  from  Harold's  house  in  his 
absence  —  the  night  ere  I  left  my  land  —  I  stood  on  this 
mound  by  thy  side  ?  Then  did  I  tell  thee  that  the  sole 
soft  thought  that  relieved  the  bitterness  of  my  soul,  when 
all  the  rest  of  my  kinsfolk  seemed  to  behold  in  me  but 
the  heir  of  Sweyn,  the  outlaw  and  homicide,  was  the  love 
that  I  bore  to  Harold  ;  but  that  that  love  itself  was  mourn- 
ful and  bodeful  as  the  hwata  *  of  distant  sorrow.  And 
thou  didst  take  me,  0  Prophetess,  to  thy  bosom,  and  thy 
cold  kiss  touched  my  lips  and  ray  brow  ;  and  there,  be- 
side this  altar  and  grave-mound,  by  leaf  and  by  water,  by 
staff  and  by  song,  thou  didst  bid  me  take  comfort;  for 
that  as  the  mouse  gnawed  the  toils  of  the  lion,  so  the 
exile  obscure  should  deliver  from  peril  the  pride  and  the 
prince  of  my  House — that,  from  that  hour  with  the  skein 
of  his  fate  should  mine  be  entwined  ;  and  his  fate  was 
that  of  kings  and  of  kingdoms.  And  then,  when  the  joy 
flushed  my  cheek,  and  methought  youth  came  back  in 
warmth  to  the  night  of  my  soul  —  then,  Hilda,  I  asked 
thee  if  my  life  would  be  spared  till  I  had  redeemed  the 
name  of  my  father.  Thy  seid-staff  passed  over  the  leaves 
that,  burning  with  fire-sparks,  symbolled  the  life  of  the 
man,  and  from  the  third  leaf  the  flame  leaped  up  and 
died  ;  and  again  a  voice  from  thy  breast,  hollow,  as  if 
borne  from  a  hill-top  afar,  made  answer,  'At  thine  entrance 


*  Omen. 


HAROLD.  133 

to  manhood,  life  bursts  into  blaze,  and  shrivels  up  into 
ashes.'  So  I  knew  that  the  doom  of  the  infant  still 
weighed  unannealed  on  the  years  of  the  man  ;  and  I  come 
here  to  my  native  land  as  to  glory  and  the  grave.  But," 
said  the  young  man,  with  a  wild  enthusiasm,  "  still  with 
mine  links  the  fate  which  is  loftiest  in  England  ;  and  the 
I  ill  and  the  river  shall  rush  in  one  to  the  Terrible  Sea." 

"I  know  not  that,"  answered  Hilda,  pale,  as  if  in  awe 
of  herself :  "  for  never  yet  hath  the  rune,  or  the  fount,  or 
the  tomb,  revealed  to  me  clear  and  distinct  the  close  of 
the  great  course  of  Harold ;  only  know  I  through  his 
own  stars  his  glory  and  greatness ;  and  where  glory  is 
dim,  ajid  greatness  is  menaced,  I  know  it  but  from  the 
stars  of  others,  the  rays  of  whose  influence  blend  with 
his  own.  So  long,  at  least,  as  the  fair  and  the  pure  one 
keeps  watch  in  the  still  House  of  Life,  the  dark  and  the 
troubled  one  cannot  wholly  prevail.  For  Edith  is  given 
to  Harold  as  the  Fylgia,  that  noiselessly  blesses  and 
saves  :  and  thou — "  Hilda  checked  herself,  and  lowered 
her  hood  over  her  face,  so  that  it  suddeuly  became  in 
visible. 

"And  I  ?  "  asked  Haco,  moving  near  to  her  side. 

"Away,  son  of  Sweyn  ;  thy  feet  trample  the  grave  of 
the  mighty  dead  !  " 

Then  Hilda  lingered  no  longer,  but  took  her  way  to- 
wards the  house.  Haco's  eye  followed  her  in  silence. 
The  cattle,  grazing  in  the  great  space  of  the  crumbling 
peristyle,  looked  up  as  she  passed ;  the  watch-dogs, 
wandering  through  the  star-lit  columns,  came  snorting 


140  HAROLD. 

round  their  mistress.    And  when  she  had  vanished  within 
the  house,  Haco  turned  to  his  steed  — 

"What  matters,"  he  murmured,  "the  answer  which 
the  Yala  cannot  or  dare  not  give  ?  To  me  is  not  destined 
the  love  of  woman,  nor  the  ambition  of  life.  All  I  know 
of  human  affection  binds  me  to  Harold  ;  all  I  know  of 
human  ambition  is  to  share  in  his  fate.  This  love  is 
strong  as  hate,  and  terrible  as  doom  —  it  is  jealous,  it 
admits  no  rival.  As  the  shell  and  the  sea-weed  inter- 
laced together,  we  are  dashed  on  the  rushing  surge ; 
whither  ?   oh,  whither  ?  " 


CHAPTER  IY. 

"I  tell  thee,  Hilda,"  said  the  earl,  impatiently,  "I 
tell  thee  that  I  renounce,  henceforth,  all  faith,  save  in 
Him  whose  ways  are  concealed  from  our  eyes.  Thy  seid 
and  thy  galdra  have  not  guarded  me  against  peril,  nor 
armed  me  against  sin.  Nay,  perchance  —  but  peace  !  I 
will  no  more  tempt  the  dark  art,  I  will  no  more  seek  to 
disentangle  the  awful  truth  from  the  juggling  lie.  All 
so  foretold  me  I  will  seek  to  forget  —  hope  from  no  pro- 
phecy, fear  from  no  warning.  Let  the  soul  go  to  the 
future,  under  the  shadow  of  God!" 

"  Pass  on  thy  way  as  thou  wilt,  its  goal  is  the  same, 
whether  seen  or  unmarked.  Peradventure  thou  art  wise,,; 
said  the  Yala,  gloomilv 


HAROLD.  141 

"For  my  country's  sake,  heaven  be  my  witness,  not 
my  own,"  resumed  the  earl,  "  I  have  blotted  my  con- 
science and  sullied  my  truth.  My  country  alone  can 
redeem  me,  by  taking  my  life  as  a  thing  hallowed  ever- 
more to  her  service.  Selfish  ambition  do  I  lay  aside, 
selfish  power  shall  tempt  me  no  more  ;  lost  is  the  charm 
that  I  beheld  in  a  throne,  and,  save  for  Edith — " 

"No!  not  even  for  Edith,"  cried  the  betrothed,  ad- 
vancing, "not  even  for  Edith  shalt  thou  listen  to  other 
voice  than  that  of  thy  country  and  thy  soul." 

The  earl  turned  round  abruptly,  and  his  eyes  were 
moist. 

"0  Hilda,"  he  cried,  "see  henceforth  my  only  Yala ; 
let  that  noble  heart  alone  interpret  to  us  the  oracles  of 
the  future." 

The  next  day  Harold  returned  with  Haco  and  a 
numerous  train  of  his  house-carles  to  the  city.  Their 
ride  was  as  silent  as  that  of  the  day  before ;  but,  on 
reaching  Southwark,  Harold  turned  away  from  the  bridge 
towards  the  left,  gained  the  river-side,  and  dismounted 
at  the  house  of  one  of  his  lithsmen  (a  frankling  or  freed 
ceorl).  Leaving  there  his  horse,  he  summoned  a  boat ; 
and,  with  Haco,  was  rowed  over  towards  the  fortified 
palace  which  then  rose  towards  the  west  of  London, 
jutting  into  the  Thames,  and  which  seems  to  have  formed 
the  outwork  of  the  old  Roman  city.  The  palace,  of 
remotest  antiquity,  and  blending  all  work  and  archi- 
tecture, Roman,  Saxon,  and  Danish,  had  been  repaired 
by  Canute  ;  and  from  a  high  window  in  the  upper  story, 


142  HAROLD. 

where  were  the  royal  apartments,  the  body  of  the  traitor 
Edric  Streone  (the  founder  of  the  house  of  Godwin)  had 
been  thrown  into  the  river. 

u  Whither  go  we,  Harold  ?  "  asked  the  son  of  Sweyn. 

"  We  go  to  visit  the  young  Atheling,  the  natural  heir 
to  the  Saxon  throne,"  replied  Harold,  in  a  firm  voice. 
"  He  lodges  in  the  old  palace  of  our  kings." 

"  They  say  in  Normandy  that  the  boy  is  imbecile." 

"  That  is  not  true,"  returned  Harold.  "  I  will  present 
thee  to  him — judge." 

Haco  mused  a  moment,  and  said  — 

"  Methinks  I  divine  thy  purpose ;  is  it  not  formed  on 
the  sudden,  Harold  ?  " 

"  It  was  the  counsel  of  Edith,"  answered  Harold,  with 
evident  emotion.  "And  yet,  if  that  counsel  prevail,  I 
may  lose  the  power  to  soften  the  Church,  and  to  call  her 
mine." 

f*  So  thou  wouldst  sacrifice  even  Edith  for  thy  country." 

"  Since  I  have  sinned,  methinks  I  could,"  said  the 
proud  man,  humbly. 

The  boat  shot  into  a  little  creek,  or  rather  canal,  which 
then  ran  inland,  beside  the  black  and  rotting  walls  of  the 
fort.  The  two  earl-born  leaped  ashore,  passed  under  a 
"Roman  arch,  entered  a  court,  the  interior  of  which  was 
rudely  filled  up  by  early  Saxon  habitations  of  rough 
timber- work,  already,  since  the  time  of  Canute,  falling 
into  decay  (as  all  things  did  which  came  under  the  care 
of  Edward),  and  mounting  a  stair  that  ran  along  the 
outside  of  the  house,  gained  a  low  narrow  door  which 


HAROLD.  143 

stood  open.  In  the  passage  within  were  one  or  two  of 
the  king's  house-carles,  who  had  been  assigned  to  the 
young  Atheling,  with  liveries  of  blue,  and  Danish  axes, 
and  some  four  or  five  German  servitors,  who  had  attended 
his  father  from  the  emperor's  court.  One  of  these  last 
ushered  the  noble  Saxons  into  a  low,  forlorn  ante-hall  ; 
and  there,  to  Harold's  surprise,  he  found  Aired,  the 
Archbishop  of  York,  and  three  thegns  of  high  rank,  and 
of  lineage  ancient  and  purely  Saxon. 

Aired  approached  Harold,  with  a  faint  smile  on  his 
benign  face ;  — 

"  Methinks,  and  may  I  think  aright! — thou  comest 
hither  with  the  same  purpose  as  myself,  and  you  noble 
thegns." 

"And  that  purpose  ?  n 

"  Is  to  see  and  to  judge  calmly,  if,  despite  his  years, 
we  may  find  in  the  descendant  of  the  Ironsides  such  a 
prince  as  we  may  commend  to  our  decaying  king  as  his 
heir,  and  to  the  Witan  as  a  chief  fit  to  defend  the  land." 

"  Thou  speakest  the  cause  of  my  own  coming.  With 
your  ears  will  I  hear,  with  your  eyes  will  I  see,  as  ye 
judge,  will  judge  I,"  said  Harold,  drawing  the  prelate 
towards  the  thegns,  so  that  they  might  hear  his  answer. 

The  chiefs,  who  belonged  to  a  party  that  had  often 
opposed  Godwin's  house,  had  exchanged  looks  of  feai 
and  trouble  when  Harold  entered  ;  but  at  his  words  their 
frank  faces  showed  equal  surprise  and  pleasure. 

Harold  presented  to  them  his  nephew,  with  whose  grave 
dignity  of  bearing  beyond  his  years  they  were  favorably 


144  HAROLD. 

mpressed,  though  the  good  bishop  sighed  when  he  saw 
in  his  face  the  sombre  beauty  of  the  guilty  sire.  The 
group  then  conversed  anxiously  on  the  declining  health 
of  the  king,  the  disturbed  state  of  the  realm,  and  the  ex- 
pediency, if  possible,  of  uniting  all  suffrages  in  favor  of 
the  fittest  successor.  And,  in  Harold's  voice  and  manner, 
as  in  Harold's  heart,  there  was  nought  that  seemed  con- 
scious of  his  own  mighty  stake  and  just  hopes  in  that 
election.  But,  as  time  wore,  the  faces  of  the  thegns  grew 
overcast ;  proud  men  and  great  satraps*  were  they,  and 
they  liked  it  ill  that  the  boy  prince  kept  them  so  long  in 
the  dismal  ante-room. 

At  length,  the  German  officer,  who  had  gone  to  an- 
nounce their  coming,  returned  ;  and,  in  words,  intelligible 
indeed  from  the  affinity  between  Saxon  and  German,  but 
still  disagreeably  foreign  to  English  ears,  requested  them 
to  follow  him  into  the  presence  of  the  Atheling. 

In  a  room  yet  retaining  the  rude  splendor  with  which 
it  had  been  invested  by  Canute,  a  handsome  boy,  about 
the  age  of  thirteen  or  fourteen,  but  seeming  much  younger, 
was  engaged  in  the  construction  of  a  stuffed  bird,  a  lure 
for  a  young  hawk  that  stood  blindfold  on  its  perch.  The 
employment  made  so  habitual  a  part  of  the  serious  edu- 
cation of  youth,  that  the  thegns  smoothed  their  brows  at 
the  sight,  and  deemed  the  boy  worthily  occupied.     At 

*  The  Eastern  word  Satraps  (Satrapes)  made  one  of  the  ordinary 
and  most  inappropriate  titles  (borrowed,  no  doubt,  from  the  By- 
zantine Court),  by  which  the  Saxons,  in  their  Latinity,  honored 
their  simple  nobles. 


HAROLD.  1-U 

another  end  of  the  room,  a  grave  Norman  priest  was 
seated  at  a  table,  on  which  were  books  and  writing  im- 
plements ;  he  was  the  tutor,  commissioned  by  Edward, 
to  teach  Norman  tongue  and  saintly  lore  to  the  Athel- 
ing.  A  profusion  of  toys  strewed  the  floor,  and  some 
children  of  Edgar's  own  age  were  playing  with  them. 
His  little  sister  Margaret*  was  seated  seriously,  apart 
from  all  the  other  children,  and  employed  in  needle-wTork. 

When  Aired  approached  the  Atheling,  with  a  blend- 
ing of  reverent  obeisance  and  paternal  cordiality,  the  boy 
carelessly  cried,  in  a  barbarous  jargon,  half  German,  half 
Norman-French,  — 

"  There,  come  not  too  near,  you  scare  my  hawk.  What 
are  you  doing  ?  You  trample  my  toys,  which  the  good 
Norman  bishop  William  sent  me  as  a  gift  from  the  duke. 
Art  thou  blind,   man  ?  " 

"  My  son,"  said  the  prelate,  kindly,  "  these  are  the 
things  of  childhood — childhood  ends  sooner  writh  princes 
than  with  common  men.  Leave  thy  lure  and  thy  toys, 
and  welcome  these  noble  thegns,  and  address  them,  so 
please  you,  in  our  own  Saxon  tongue." 

"  Saxon  tongue  1 — language  of  villeins  !  not  I.  Little 
do  1  know  of  it,  save  to  scold  a  ceorl  or  a  nurse.  King 
Edward  did  not  tell  me  to  learn  Saxon,  but  Norman  !  and 
Godfroi  yonder  says,  that  if  I  know  Norman  well,  duke 
William  will  make  me  his  knight.     But  I  don't  desire  to 

*  Afterwards  married  to  Malcolm  of  Scotland,  through  whom  by 
the  female  line,  the  present  royal  dynasty  of  England  assumes  de- 
scent from  the  Anglo-Saxon  kings. 

II.  — 13  2i 


14b  HAROLD. 

learn  anything  more  to-day."  And  the  child  turned 
peevishly  from  thegn  and  prelate. 

The  three  Saxon  lords  interchanged  looks  of  profound 
displeasure  and  proud  disgust.  But  Harold,  with  an 
effort  over  himself,  approached,  and  said,  winningly,  — 

"Edgar  the  Atheling,  thou  art  not  so  young  but  thou 
knowest  already  that  the  great  live  for  others.  Wilt  thou 
not  be  proud  to  live  for  this  fair  country,  and  these  noble 
men,  and  to  speak  the  language  of  Alfred  the  Great  ?" 

"  Alfred  the  Great !  they  always  weary  me  with  Alfred 
the  Great,"  said  the  boy,  pouting.  "Alfred  the  Great, 
he  is  the  plague  of  my  life  !  if  I  am  Atheling,  men  are 
to  live  for  me,  not  I  for  them  •  and  if  you  tease  me  any 
more,  I  will  run  away  to  Duke  William,  in  Rouen  ;  God- 
froi  says  I  shall  never  be  teased  there  ! " 

So  saying,  already  tired  qf  hawk  and  lure,  the  child 
threw  himself  on  the  floor  with  the  other  children,  and 
snatched  the  toys  from  their  hands. 

The  serious  Margaret  then  rose  quietly,  and  went  to 
her  brother,  and  said  in  good  Saxon, — 

u  Fie  !  if  you  behave  thus,  I  shall  call  you  niddering  !  " 

At  the  threat  of  that  word,  the  vilest  in  the  language 
—  that  word  which  the  lowest  ceorl  would  forfeit  life 
rather  than  endure — a  threat  applied  to  the  Atheling  of 
England,  the  descendant  of  Saxon  heroes  —  the  three 
thegns  drew  close,  and  watched  the  boy,  hoping  to  see 
that  he  would  start  to  his  feet  with  wrath  and  in  shame. 

"  Call  me  what  you  will,  silly  sister,"  said  the  child, 


HAROLD.  14T 

indifferently,  "I  am  not  so  Saxon  as  to  care  for  your 
ceorlish  Saxon  names." 

"  Enow,"  cried  the  proudest  and  greatest  of  the  thegns, 
his  very  moustache  curling  with  ire.  "  He  who  can  be 
called  niddering  shall  never  be  crowned  king  ! " 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  crowned  king,  rude  man,  with  your 
laidly  moustache ;  I  want  to  be  made  knight,  and  have  a 
banderol  and  baldric.     Go  away  ! n 

"  We  go,  son,"  said  Aired,  mournfully. 

And,  with  slow  and  tottering  step,  he  moved  to  the 
door ;  there  he  halted,  turned  back,  —  and  the  child  was 
pointing  at  him  in  mimicry,  while  Godfroi,  the  Norman 
tutor,  smiled,  as  in  pleasure.  The  prelate  shook  his  head, 
and  the  group  gained  once  more  the  ante-hall. 

M  Fit  leader  of  bearded  men  !  fit  king  for  the  Saxon 
land!"  cried  a  thegn.  "No  more  of  your  Atheling, 
Aired  my  father  !  " 

"  No  more  of  him,  indeed  !  "  said  the  prelate,  mourn- 
fully. 

"It  is  but  the  fault  of  his  nurture  and  rearing,  —  ? 
neglected  childhood,  a  Norman  tutor,  German  hirelings. 
We  may  remould  yet  the  pliant  clay,"  said  Harold. 

"  Nay,"  returned  Aired,  "  no  leisure  for  such  hopes,  no 
time  to  undo  what  is  done  by  circumstance,  and,  I  fear, 
by  nature.  Ere  the  year  is  out  the  throne  will  stand 
empty  in  our  halls." 

"Who  then,"  said  Haco,  abruptly,  "who  then — (par- 
don the  ignorance  of  youth  wasted  in  captivity  abroad  !) 
who  then,  failing  the  Atheling,  will  save  this  realm  from 


148  HAROLD. 

the  Norman  duke,  who,  I  know  well,  counts  on  it  as  the 
reaper  on  the  harvest  ripening  to  his  sickle  ? " 

"Alas,  who  then?"  murmured  Aired. 

"  Who  then  ?  "  cried  the  three  thegns,  with  one  voice ; 
"  why  the  worthiest,  the  wisest,  the  bravest !  Stand  forth, 
Harold  the  Earl.  Thou  art  the  man  ! "  And,  without 
waiting  his  answer,  they  strode  from  the  hall. 


CHAPTER   V. 

Around  Northampton  lay  the  forces  of  Morcar,  the 
choice  of  the  Anglo-Dane  men  of  Northumbria.  Sud- 
denly there  was  a  shout  as  to  arms,  from  the  encampment ; 
and  Morcar,  the  young  earl,  clad  in  his  link-mail,  save 
his  helmet,  came  forth,  and  cried, — 

"  My  men  are  fools  to  look  that  way  for  a  foe  ;  yonder 
lies  Mercia,  behind  it  the  hills  of  Wales.  The  troops 
that  come  hitherward  are  those  which  Edwin,  my  brother, 
brings  to  our  aid." 

Morcar's  words  were  carried  into  the  host  by  his  cap- 
tains and  war-bodes,  and  the  shout  changed  from  alarm 
into  joy.  As  the  cloud  of  dust,  through  which  gleamed 
the  spears  of  the  coming  force,  rolled  away,  and  lay 
lagging  behind  the  march  of  the  host,  there  rode  forth 
from  the  van  two  riders.  Fast  and  far  from  the  rest  they 
rode,  and  behind  them,  fast  as  they  could,  spurred  two 
others,  who  bore  on  high,  one  the  pennon  of  Mercia,  one 


HAROLD.  149 

the  red  lion  of  ISorth  Wales.  Right  to  the  embankment 
and  palisade  whif  h  begirt  Morcar's  camp,  rode  the  riders  ; 
and  the  head  of  the  foremost  was  bare,  and  the  guards 
knew  the  face  of  Edwin  the  Comely,  Morcar's  brother. 
Morcar  stepped  down  from  the  mound  on  which  he  stood, 
and  the  brothers  embraced,  amidst  the  halloos  of  the 
forces. 

"And  welcome,  I  pray  thee,"  said  Morcar,  "our  kins- 
man,  Caradoc,  son  of  Gryffyth*  the  bold." 

So  Morcar  reached  his  hand  to  Caradoc,  stepson  to 
his  sister  Aldyth,  and  kissed  him  on  the  brow,  as  was  the 
wont  of  our  fathers.  The  young  and  crownless  prince 
was  scarce  out  of  boyhood,  but  already  his  name  was 
sung  by  the  bards,  and  circled  in  the  halls  of  Gwynedd 
with  the  Hirlas  horn  ;  for  he  had  harried  the  Saxon 
borders,  and  given  to  fire  and  sword  even  the  fortress  of 
Harold  himself. 


But  while  these  three  interchanged  salutations,  and  ere 
yet  the  mixed  Mercians  and  Welch  had  gained  the  en- 
campment, from  a  curve  in  the  opposite  road,  towards 
Towcester  and  Dunstable,  broke  the  flash  of  mail  like  a 
river  of  light,  trumpets  and  fifes  were  heard  in  the  dis- 
tance ;  and  all  in  Morcar's  host  stood  hushed  but  stern, 
gazing  anxious  and  afar,  as  the  coming  armament  swept 
on.  And  from  the  midst  were  seen  the  Martlets  and 
Cross  of  England's  king,  and  the  Tiger  heads  of  Harold  ; 
banners   which,   seen   together,   had  planted  victory  on 


*  By  his  first  wife ;  Aldyth  was  his  second. 
13* 


150  HAROLD. 

every  tower,  on  e\  ery  field,  towards  which  they  had  rushed 
on  the  winds. 

Retiring,  then,  to  the  central  mound,  the  chiefs  of  the 
insurgent  force  held  their  brief  council. 

The  two  young  earls,  whatever  their  ancestral  renown, 
being  yet  new  themselves  to  fame  and  to  power,  were 
submissive  to  the  Anglo-Dane  chiefs,  by  whom  Morcar 
had  been  elected.  And  these  on  recognizing  the  standard 
of  Harold,  were  unanimous  in  advice  to  send  a  peaceful 
deputation,  setting  forth  their  wrongs  under  Tostig,  and 
the  justice  of  their  cause.  "  For  the  earl,"  said  Gamel 
Beorn,  (the  head  and  front  of  that  revolution),  "  is  a  just 
man,  and  one  who  would  shed  his  own  blood  rather  than 
that  of  any  other  free-born  dweller  in  England  ;  and  he 
will  do  us  right." 

"  What,  against  his  own  brother  ?  "  cried  Edwin. 

"Against  his  own  brother,  if  we  convince  but  his  rea- 
son," returned  the  Anglo-Dane. 

And  the  other  chiefs  nodded  assent.  Caradoc's  fierce 
eyes  flashed  fire ;  but  he  played  with  his  torque,  and 
spoke  not. 

Meanwhile,  the  vanguard  of  the  king's  force  had  defiled 
under  the  very  walls  of  Northampton,  between  the  town 
and  the  insurgents ;  and  some  of  the  light-armed  scouts 
who  went  forth  from  Morcar's  camp  to  gaze  on  the  pro- 
cession, with  that  singular  fearlessness  which  charac- 
terized, at  that  period,  the  rival  parties  in  civil  war,  re- 
turned to  say  that  they  had  seen  Harold  himself  in  the 
foremost  line,  and  that  he  was  not  in  mail. 


HAROLD.  151 

This  circumstance  the  insurgent  thegns  received  as  a 
good  omen  ;  and,  having  already  agreed  on  the  deputa- 
tion, about  a  score  of  the  principal  thegns  of  the  north 
went  sedately  towards  the  hostile  lines. 

By  the  side  of  Harold,  —  armed  in  mail,  with  his  face 
concealed  by  the  strange  Sicilian  nose-piece  used  then 
by  most  of  the  Northern  nations, — had  ridden  Tostig, 
who  had  joined  the  earl  on  his  march,  with  a  scanty  band 
of  some  fifty  or  sixty  of  his  Danish  house-carles.  All 
the  men  throughout  broad  England  that  he  could  com- 
mand or  bribe  to  his  cause,  were  those  fifty  or  sixty  hire- 
ling Danes.  And  it  seemed  that  already  there  was  dispute 
between  the  brothers,  for  Harold's  face  was  flushed,  and 
his  voice  stern,  as  he  said,  "  Rate  me  as  thou  wilt,  bro- 
ther, but  I  cannot  advance  at  once  to  the  destruction  of 
my  fellow  Englishmen  without  summons  and  attempt  at 
treaty,  —  as  has  ever  been  the  custom  of  our  ancient  he- 
roes and  our  own  House. " 

"By  all  the  fiends  of  the  North,"  exclaimed  Tostig, 
"it  is  foul  shame  to  talk  of  treaty  and  summons  to  rob- 
bers and  rebels.  For  what  art  thou  here  but  for  chas- 
tisement and  revenge?" 

"For  justice  and  right,  Tostig." 

"  Ha  !  thou  comest  not;  then,  to  aid  thy  brother  ?" 

"Yes,  if  justice  and  right  are,  as  I  trust,  with  him." 

Before  Tostig  could  reply,  a  line  was  suddenly  cleared 
through  the  armed  men,  and,  with  bare  heads,  and  a 
monk  lifting  the  rood  on  high,  amidst  the  procession, 
advanced  the  Northumbrian  Danes. 


152  ,         HAROLD. 

" By  the  red  sword  of  St.  Olave  !  n  cried  Tostig,  "yon- 
der come  the  traitors,  Gamel  Beorn  and  Gloneion  !  You 
will  not  hear  them  ?  If  so,  I  will  not  stay  to  listen.  I 
^ave  but  my  axe  for  my  answer  to  such  knaves." 

"Brother,  brother,  those  men  are  the  most  valiant  and 
famous  chiefs  in  thine  earldom.  Go,  Tostig,  thou  art 
not  now  in  the  mood  to  hear  reason.  Retire  into  the 
city  ;  summon  its  gates  to  open  to  the  king's  flag.  I 
will  hear  the  men." 

"  Beware  how  thou  judge,  save  in  thy  brother's  favor  !" 
growled  the  fierce  warrior ;  and,  tossing  his  arm  on  high 
with  a  contemptuous  gesture,  he  spurred  away  towards 
the  gates. 

Then  Harold,  dismounting,  stood  on  the  ground,  under 
the  standard  of  his  king,  and  round  him  came  several  of 
the  Saxon  chiefs,  who  had  kept  aloof  during  the  con- 
ference with  Tostig. 

The  Northumbrians  approached,  and  saluted  the  earl 
with  grave  courtesy. 

Then  Gamel  Beorn  began.  But  much  as  Harold  had 
feared  and  foreboded  as  to  the  causes  of  complaint  which 
Tostig  had  given  to  the  Northumbrians,  all  fear,  all  fore- 
boding, fell  short  of  the  horrors  now  deliberately  un- 
folded ;  not  only  extortion  of  tribute  the  most  rapacious 
and  illegal,  but  mnrder  the  fiercest  and  most  foul. 
Thegns  of  high  birth,  without  offence  or  suspicion,  but 
who  had  either  excited  Tostig's  jealousy,  or  resisted  his 
exactions,  had  been  snared  under  peaceful  pretexts  into 


HAROLD.  153 

his  castle,*  and  butchered  in  cold  blood  by  his  house- 
carles.  The  cruelties  of  the  old  heathen  Danes  seemed 
revived  in  the  bloody  and  barbarous  tale. 

"And  now,"  said  the  thegn,  in  conclusion,  "  canst  thou 
condemn  us  that  we  rose  ? — no  partial  rising  ; — rose  all 
Northumbria  !  At  first  but  two  hundred  thegns  ;  strong 
in  our  cause,  we  swelled  into  the  might  of  a  people.  Our 
wrongs  found  sympathy  beyond  our  province,  for  liberty 
spreads  over  human  hearts  as  fire  over  a  heath.  Wher- 
ever we  march,  friends  gather  round  us.  Thou  warrest 
not  on  a  handful  of  rebels, — half  England  is  with  us  !"— 

"And  ye, — thegns,"  answered  Harold,  "  ye  have  ceased 
to  war  against  Tostig  your  earl.  Ye  war  now  against 
the  king  and  the  Law.  Come  with  your  complaints  to 
your  prince  and  your  Witan,  and,  if  they  are  just,  ye  are 
stronger  than  in  yonder  palisades  and  streets  of  steel." 

"And  so,"  said  Gamel  Beorn,  with  marked  emphasis, 
"now  thou  art  in  England,  O  noble  earl, — so  are  we 
willing  to  come.  But  when  thou  wert  absent  from  the 
land,  justice  seemed  to  abandon  it  to  force  and  the  battle- 
axe." 

"  I  would  thank  you  for  your  trust,"  answered  Harold, 
deeply  moved.  "  But  justice  in  England  rests  not  on  the 
presence  and  life  of  a  single  man.  And  your  speech  I 
must  not  accept  as  a  grace,  for  it  wrongs  both  my  king 
and  his  council.  These  charges  ye  have  made,  but  ye 
nave  not  proved  them.  Armed  men  are  not  proofs ;  and 
granting  that  hot  blood  and  mortal  infirmity  of  judgment 

13*  *  Flop  Wig. 


154  HAROLD. 

have  caused  Tostig  to  err  against  you  and  the  right, 
think  still  of  his  qualities  to  reign  over  men  whose  lands, 
and  whose  rivers,  lie  ever  exposed  to  the  dread  Northern 
sea-kings.  Where  will  ye  find  a  chief  with  arm  as  strong, 
and  heart  as  dauntless  ?  By  his  mother's  side  he  is  allied 
to  your  own  lineage.  And  for  the  rest,  if  ye  receive  him 
back  to  his  earldom,  not  only  do  I,  Harold,  in  whom  you 
profess  to  trust,  pledge  full  oblivion  of  the  past,  but  I 
will  undertake,  in  his  name,  that  he  shall  rule  you  well 
for  the  future,  according  to  the  laws  of  King  Canute." 

"  That  will  we  not  hear,"  cried  the  thegns,  with  one 
voice  ;  while  the  tones  of  Gamel  Beorn,  rough  with  the 
rattling  Danish  burr,  rose  above  all,  "for  we  were  born 
free.  A  proud  and  bad  chief  is  by  us  not  to  be  endured  ; 
we  have  learned  from  our  ancestors  to  live  free  or  die  ! " 

A  murmur,  not  of  condemnation,  at  these  words,  was 
heard  amongst  the  Saxon  chiefs  round  Harold  ;  and  be- 
loved and  revered  as  he  was,  he  felt  that,  had  he  the 
heart,  he  had  scarce  the  power,  to  have  coerced  those 
warriors  to  march  at  once  on  their  countrymen  in  such  a 
cause.  But  foreseeing  great  evil  in  the  surrender  of  his 
brother's  interests,  whether  by  lowering  the  king's  dignity 
to  the  demands  of  armed  force,  or  sending  abroad  in  all 
his  fierce  passions  a  man  so  highly  connected  with  Nor- 
man and  Dane,  so  vindictive  and  so  grasping,  as  Tostig, 
the  earl  shunned  further  parley  at  that  time  and  place 
He  appointed  a  meeting  in  the  town  with  the  chiefs ; 
and  requested  them,  meanwhile,  to  reconsider  their 
demands,  and  at  least  shape  them  so  as  that  they  could  be 


HAROLD.  155 

transmitted  to  the  king,  who  was  then  on  his  way  to 
Oxford. 

It  is  in  vain  to  describe  the  rage  of  Tostig,  when  his 
brother  gravely  repeated  to  him  the  accusations  against 
him,  and  asked  for  his  justification.  Justification  he 
could  not  give.  His  idea  of  law  was  but  force,  and  by 
force  alone  he  demanded  now  to  be  defended.  Harold, 
then,  wishing  not  alone  to  be  judge  in  his  brother's  cause, 
referred  further  discussion  to  the  chiefs  of  the  various 
towns  and  shires,  whose  troops  had  swelled  the  War- 
Fyrd  ;  and  to  them  he  bade  Tostig  plead  his  cause. 

Yain  as  a  woman,  while  fierce  as  a  tiger,  Tostig  as- 
sented, and  in  that  assembly  he  rose,  his  gonna  all  blaz- 
ing with  crimson  and  gold,  his  hair  all  curled  and  per- 
fumed as  for  a  banquet  ;  and  such,  in  a  half-barbarous 
day,  the  effect  of  person,  especially  when  backed  by  war- 
like renown,  that  the  Proceres  were  half  disposed  to 
forget,  in  admiration  of  the  earl's  surpassing  beauty  of 
form,  the  dark  tales  of  his  hideous  guilt.  But  his  pas- 
sions hurrying  him  away  ere  he  had  gained  the  middle 
cf  his  discourse,  so  did  his  own  relation  condemn  himself, 
so  clear  became  his  own  tyrannous  misdeeds,  that  the 
Englishmen  murmured. aloud  their  disgust,  and  their  im- 
patience would  not  suffer  him  to  close. 

"Enough,"  cried  Vebba,  the  blunt  thegn  from  Saxon 
Kent ;  "  it  is  plain  that  neither  king  nor  Witan  can  re- 
place thee  in  thine  earldom.  Tell  us  not  farther  of  these 
atrocities  •  or,  by're  Lady,  if  the  Northumbrians  had 
chased  thee  not,  we  would." 


156  HAROLD. 

11  Take  treasure  and  ship,  and  go  to  Baldwin  in  Flan- 
ders," said  Thorold,  a  great  Anglo-Dane  from  Lincoln- 
shire, "  for  even  Harold's  name  can  scarce  save  thee  from 
outlawry." 

Tostig  glared  round  on  the  assembly,  and  met  but  one 
common  expression  in  the  face  of  all. 

"  These  are  thy  henchmen,  Harold  ! "  he  said  through 
his  gnashing  teeth ;  and,  without  vouchsafing  farther 
word,  strode  from  the  council-hall. 

That  evening  he  left  the  town,  and  hurried  to  tell  to 
Edward  the  tale  that  had  so  miscarried  with  the  chiefs. 
The  next  day,  the  Northumbrian  delegates  were  heard ; 
and  they  made  the  customary  proposition  in  those  cases 
of  civil  differences,  to  refer  all  matters  to  the  king  and 
the  Witan  ;  each  party  remaining  under  arms  meanwhile. 

This  was  finally  acceded  to.  Harold  repaired  to 
Oxford,  where  the  king  (persuaded  to  the  journey  by 
Aired,  foreseeing  what  would  come  to  pass)  had  just 
arrived. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

The  Witan  was  summoned  in  haste.  Thither  came 
the  young  earls  Morear  and  Edwin,  but  Caradoc,  chafing 
at  the  thought  of  peace,  retired  into  Wales  with  his  wild 
band. 

"Now,    all   the   great   chiefs,    spiritual   and   temporal 


HAROLD.  151 

assembled  in  Oxford  for  the  decree  of  that  Witan  on 
which  depended  the  peace  of  England.  The  imminence 
of  the  time  made  the  concourse  of  members  entitled  to 
vote  in  the  assembly  even  larger  than  that  which  had  met 
for  the  inlawry  of  Godwin.  There  was  but  one  thought 
uppermost  in  the  minds  of  men,  to  which  the  adjustment 
of  an  earldom,  however  mighty,  was  comparatively- in- 
significant—  viz.,  the  succession  of  the  kingdom.  That 
thought  turned  instinctively  and  irresistibly  to  Harold. 

The  evident  and  rapid  decay  of  the  king;  the  utter 
failure  of  all  male  heirs  in  the  House  of  Cerdic,  save  only 
the  boy  Edgar ;  whose  character  (which  throughout  life 
remained  puerile  and  frivolous)  made  the  minority  which 
excluded  him  from  the  throne  seem  cause  rather  for  re- 
joicing than  grief:  and  whose  rights,  even  by  birth,  were 
not  acknowledged  by  the  general  tenor  of  the  Saxon 
laws,  which  did  not  recognize  as  heir  to  the  crown  the 
son  of  a  father  who  had  not  himself  been  crowned  ;  *  — 
forebodings  of  coming  evil  and  danger,  originating  in 
Edward's  perturbed  visions ;  revivals  of  obscure  and  till 
then  forgotten  prophecies,  ancient  as  the  days  of  Merlin  ; 
rumors,  industriously  fomented  into  certainty  by  Haco, 

*  This  truth  has  been  overlooked  by  writers,  who  have  main- 
tained the  Atheling's  right  as  if  incontestable.  "  An  opinion  pre- 
vailed," says  Palgrave,  "Eng.  Commonwealth,"  pp.  559,  560, 
"that  if  the  Atheling  was  born  before  his  father  and  mother  were 
irdained  to  the  royal  dignity,  the  crown  did  not  descend  to  the 
child  of  uncrowned  ancestors."  Our  great  legal  historian  quotes 
Eadmer,  "De  Vit.  Sanct.  Dunstan,"  p.  220,  for  the  objection  made 
to  the  succession  of  Edward  the  Martyr,  on  this  score. 

II.  —  U 


158  HAROLD. 

whose  whole  soul  seemed  devoted  to  Harold's  cause,  of 
the  intended  claim  of  the  Norman  count  to  the  throne ; 

—  all  concurred  to  make  the  election  of  a  man  matured 
in  camp  and  council,  doubly  necessary  to  the  safety  of 
the  realm. 

Warm  favorers,  naturally,  of  Harold,  were  the  genuine 
Saxon  population,  and  a  large  part  of  the  Anglo-Danish 

—  all  the  thegns  in  his  vast  earldom  of  Wessex,  reaching 
to  the  southern  and  western  coasts,  from  Sandwich  and 
the  mouth  of  the  Thames  to  the  Land's  End  in  Corn 
wall ;  and  including  the  free  men  of  Kent,  whose  inhabi- 
tants even  from  the  days  of  Caesar  had  been  considered 
in  advance  of  the  rest  of  the  British  population,  and  from 
the  days  of  Hengist  had  exercised  an  influence  that 
nothing  save  the  warlike  might  of  the  Anglo-Danes 
counterbalanced.  — With  Harold,  too,  were  many  of  the 
thegns  from  his  earlier  earldom  of  East  Anglia,  com- 
prising the  county  of  Essex,  great  part  of  Hertfordshire, 
and  so  reaching  into  Cambridge,  Huntington,  Norfolk, 
and  Ely.  With  him,  were  all  the  wealth,  intelligence, 
.  «/ti  power  of  London,  and  most  of  the  trading  towns ; 
vrith  him  all  the  veterans  of  the  armies  he  had  led ;  with 
him,  too,  generally  throughout  the  empire,  was  the  force, 
less  distinctly  demarked,  of  public  and  national  feeling. 

Even  the  priests,  save  those  immediately  about  the 
court,  forgot  in  the  exigency  of  the  time,  their  ancient 
and  deep-rooted  dislike  to  Godwin's  House  ;  they  re- 
membered, at  least,  that  Harold  nad  never  in  foray  or 
feud,    plundered    a    single   convent;    or   in    peace,  and 


HAROLD.  159 

through  plot,  appropriated  to  himself  a  single  hyde  of 
Church  land ;  and  that  was  more  than  could  have  been 
said  of  any  other  earl  of  the  age  —  even  of  Leofric  the 
Holy.  They  caught,  as  a  church  must  do,  when  so 
intimately,  even  in  its  illiterate  errors,  allied  with  the 
people  as  the  old  Saxon  Church  was,  the  popular 
enthusiasm.  Abbot  combined  with  thegn  in  zeal  for 
Earl  Harold. 

The  only  party  that  stood  aloof  was  the  one  that 
espoused  the  claims  of  the  young  sons  of  Algar.  But 
this  party  was  indeed  most  formidable  ;  it  united  all  the 
old  friends  of  the  virtuous  Leofric,  of  the  famous  Siward  ; 
it  had  a  numerous  party  even  in  East  Anglia  (in  which 
earldom  Algar  had  succeeded  Harold) ;  it  comprised 
nearly  all  the  thegns  in  Mercia  (the  heart  of  the  country), 
and  the  population  of  Northumbria ;  and  it  involved  in 
its  wide  range  the  terrible  Welch  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  Scottish  domain  of  the  sub-king  Malcolm,  himself  a 
Cambrian,  on  the  other,  despite  Malcolm's  personal  pre- 
dilections for  Tostig,  to  whom  he  was  strongly  attached. 
But  then  the  chiefs  of  this  party  while  at  present  they 
stood  aloof,  were  all,  with  the  exception  perhaps  of  the 
young  earls  themselves,  disposed,  on  the  slightest  encour- 
agement, to  blend  their  suffrage  with  the  friends  of 
Harold  ;  and  his  praise  was  as  loud  on  their  lips  as  on 
those  of  the  Saxons  from  Kent,  or  the  burghers  from 
London.  All  factions,  in  short,  were  willing,  in  this 
momentous  crisis,  to  lay  aside  old  dissensions;  it  de- 
pended upon  the  conciliation  of  the  Northumbrians,  upon 


160  HAROLD. 

a  fusion  between  the  friends  of  Harold  and  the  supporters 
of  the  young  sons  of  Algar,  to  form  such  a  concurrence 
of  interests  as  must  inevitably  bear  Harold  to  the  throne 
of  the  empire. 

Meanwhile,  the  earl  himself  wisely  and  patriotically 
deemed  it  right  to  remain  neuter  in  the  approaching 
decision  between  Tostig  and  the  young  earls.  He  could 
not  be  so  unjust  and  so  mad  as  to  urge  to  the  utmost 
(and  risk  in  the  urging)  his  party  influence  on  the  side 
of  oppression  and  injustice,  solely  for  the  sake  of  his 
brother ;  nor,  on  the  other,  was  it  decorous  or  natural  to 
take  part  himself  against  Tostig ;  nor  could  he,  as  a 
statesman,  contemplate  without  anxiety  and  alarm  the 
transfer  of  so  large  a  portion  of  the  realm  to  the  vice- 
kingship  of  the  sons  of  his  old  foe  —  rivals  to  his  power, 
at  the  very  time  when,  even  for  the  sake  of  England 
alone,  that  power  should  be  the  most  solid  and  compact. 

But  the  final  greatness  of  a  fortunate  man  is  rarely 
made  by  any  violent  effort  of  his  own.  He  has  sown  the 
seeds  in  the  time  foregone,  and  the  ripe  time  brings  up 
the  harvest.  His  fate  seems  taken  out  of  his  own  con- 
trol ;  greatness  seems  thrust  upon  him.  He  has  made 
himself,  as  it  were,  a  want  to  the  nation,  a  thing  necessary 
to  it ;  he  has  identified  himself  with  his  age,  and  in  the 
wreath  or  the  crown  on  his  brow,  the  age  itself  seems  to 
put  forth  his  flower. 

Tostig,  lodging  apart  from  Harold  in  a  fort  near  the 
^ate  of  Oxford,  took  slight  pains  to  conciliate  foes  or 
make  friends  ;  trusting  rather  to  his  representations  to 


HAROLD.  161 

Edward  (who  was  wroth  with  the  rebellious  Rouse  of 
Algar),  of  the  danger  of  compromising  the  royal  dignit) 
by  concessions  to  armed  insurgents. 

It  was  but  three  days  before  that  for  wrhich  the  Witan 
was  summoned  ;  most  of  its  members  had  already  assem- 
bled in  the  city ;  and  Harold,  from  the  window  of  the 
monastery  in  which  he  lodged,  was  gazing  thoughtfully 
into  the  streets  below,  where,  with  the  gay  dresses  of  the 
thegns  and  cnehts,  blended  the  grave  robes  of  ecclesiastic 
and  youthful  scholar  ;  — for  to  that  illustrious  university 
(pillaged  and  persecuted  by  the  sons  of  Canute),  Edward 
had,  to  his  honor,  restored  the  schools,  —  when  Haco 
entered,  and  announced  to  him  that  a  numerous  body  of 
thegns  and  prelates,  headed  by  Aired,  archbishop  of  York, 
craved  an  audience. 

"Knowest  thou  the  cause,  Haco?" 

The  youth's  cheek  was  yet  more  pale  than  usual,  as  he 
answered  slowly,  — 

"Hilda's  prophecies  are  ripening  into  truths." 

The  earl  started,  and  his  old  ambition  reviving,  flushed 
on  his  brow,  and  sparkled  from  his  eye  —  he  checked  the 
joyous  emotion,  and  bade  Haco  briefly  admit  the  visitors. 

They  came  in,  two  by  two,  —  a  body  so  numerous  that 
they  filled  the  ample  chamber  ;  and  Harold,  as  he  greeted 
each,  beheld  the  most  powerful  lords  of  the  land  —  the 
highest  dignitaries  of  the  Church — and,  oft  and  frequent, 
came  old  foe  by  the  side  of  trusty  friend.  They  all  paused 
at  the  foot  of  the  narrow  dais  on  which  Harold  stood, 
14*  2k 


I- 


162  HAROLD. 

and  Aired  repelled  by  a  gesture  his  invitation  to  the  fore- 
most to  mount  the  platform. 

Then  Aired  began  an  harangue,  simple  and  earnest. 
He  described  briefly  the  condition  of  the  country  ;  touched 
with  grief  and  with  feeling  on  the  health  of  the  king,  and 
the  failure  of  Cerdic's  line.  He  stated  honestly  his  own 
strong  wish,  if  possible,  to  have  concentrated  the  popular 
suffrages  on  the  young  Atheling ;  and  under  the  emer- 
gence of  the  case  to  have  waived  the  objection  to  his 
immature  years.  But  as  distinctly  and  emphatically  he 
stated,  that  that  hope  and  intent  he  had  now  formally 
abandoned,  and  that  there  was  but  one  sentiment  on  the 
subject  with  all  the  chiefs  and  dignitaries  of  the  realm. 

"  Wherefore,"  continued  he,  "  after  anxious  consulta- 
tions with  each  other,  those  whom  you  see  around  have 
come  to  you :  yea,  to  you,  Earl  Harold,  we  offer  our 
hands  and  hearts,  to  do  our  best  to  prepare  for  you  the 
throne  on  the  demise  of  Edward,  and  to  seat  you  thereon 
as  firmly  as  ever  sate  King  of  England  and  son  of  Cer- 
dic  ; — knowing  that  in  you,  and  in  you  alone,  we  find  the 
man  who  reigns  already  in  the  English  heart;  to  whose 
strong  arm  we  can  trust  the  defence  of  our  land  ;  to 
whose  just  thoughts,  our  laws. — As  I  speak,  so  think  we 
all!" 

With  downcast  eyes  Harold  heard  ;  and  but  by  a  slight 
heaving  of  his  breast  under  his  crimson  robe,  could  his 
emotion  be  seen.  But  as  soon  as  the  approving  murmur, 
that  succeeded  the  prelate's  speech,  had  closed,  he  lifted 
his  head,  and  answered,  — 


HAROLD.  163 

"  Holy  father,  and  you,  Right  Worthy  my  fellow 
thegns,  if  ye  could  read  my  heart  at  this  moment,  believe 
that  you  would  not  find  there  the  vain  joy  of  aspiring 
man,  when  the  greatest  of  earthly  prizes  is  placed  within 
his  reach.  There,  you  would  see,  with  deep  and  wordless 
gratitude  for  your  trust  and  your  love,  grave  and  solemn 
solicitude,  earnest  desire  to  divest  my  decision  of  all  mean 
thought  of  self,  and  judge  only  whether  indeed,  as  king 
or  as  subject,  I  can  best  guard  the  weal  of  England. 
Pardon  me,  then,  if  I  answer  you  not  as  ambition  alone 
would  answer  ;  neither  deem  me  insensible  to  the  glorious 
lot  of  presiding,  under  Heaven,  and  by  the  light  of  our 
laws,  over  the  destinies  of  the  English  realm, — if  I  pause 
to  weigh  well  the  responsibilities  incurred,  and  the  ob- 
stacles to  be  surmounted.  There  is  that  on  my  mind 
that  I  would  fain  unbosom,  not  of  a  nature  to  discuss  in 
an  assembly  so  numerous,  but  which  I  would  rather  sub- 
mit to  a  chosen  few  whom  you  yourselves  may  select  to 
hear  me,  in  whose  cool  wisdom,  apart  from  personal  love 
to  m«e,  ye  may  best  confide  ;  — your  most  veteran  thegns, 
your  most  honored  prelates  :  to  them  will  I  speak,  to 
them  make  clean  my  bosom  ;  and  to  their  answer,  their 
counsels,  will  I  in  all  things  defer :  whether  with  loyal 
heart  to  serve  another,  whom,  hearing  me,  they  may  de- 
cide to  choose ;  or  to  fit  my  soul  to  bear,  not  unworthily, 
the  weight  of  a  kingly  crown." 

Aired  lifted  his  mild  eyes  to  Harold,  and  there  were 
both  pity  and  approval  in  his  gaze,  for  he  divined  the 
carl. 


164  HAROLP 

"  Thou  hast  chosen  the  right  course,  my  son  ;  and  we 
will  retire  at  once,  and  elect  those  with  whom  thou  raayst 
freely  confer,  and  by  whose  judgment  thou  mayst  right- 
eously abide. " 

The  prelate  turned,  and  with  him  went  the  conclave. 

Left  alone  with  Haco,  the  last  said,  abruptly, — 

"Thou  wilt  not  be  so  indiscreet,  0  Harold,  as  to  con- 
fess thy  compelled  oath  to  the  fraudful  Norman  ?  " 

"  That  is  my  design,"  replied  Harold,  coldly. 

The  son  of  Sweyn  began  to  remonstrate,  but  the  earl 
cut  him  short. 

"  If  the  Norman  say  that  he  has  been  deceived  in 
Harold,  never  so  shall  say  the  men  of  England.  Leave 
me.  I  know  not  why,  Haco,  but  in  thy  presence,  at 
times,  there  is  a  glamour  as  strong  as  in  the  spells  of 
Hilda.  Go,  dear  boy ;  the  fault  is  not  in  thee  but  in 
the  superstitious  infirmities  of  a  man  who  hath  once  low- 
ered, or  it  may  be,  too  highly  strained,  his  reason  to  the 
things  of  a  haggard  fancy.  Go  !  and  send  to  me  my 
brother  Gurth.  I  would  have  him  alone  of  my  House 
present  at  this  solemn  crisis  of  its  fate." 

Haco  bowed  his  head,  and  went. 

In  a  few  moments  more,  Gurth  came  in.  To  this  pure 
and  spotless  spirit  Harold  had  already  related  the  events 
of  his  unhappy  visit  to  the  Norman  ;  and  he  felt,  as  the 
young  chief  pressed  his  hand,  and  looked  on  him  with 
his  clear  and  loving  eyes,  as  if  Honor  made  palpable 
stood  by  his  side. 

Six  of  the  ecclesiastics,  most  eminent  for  Church  learn- 


HAROLD.  ,        165 

ing,  —  small  as  was  that  which  they  could  boast,  com- 
pared with  the  scholars  of  Normandy  and  the  Papal 
States,  but  at  least  more  intelligent  and  more  free  from 
mere  formal  monasticism  than  most  of  their  Saxon  con- 
temporaries —  and  six  of  the  chiefs  most  renowned  for 
experience  in  war  or  council,  selected  under  the  sagacious 
promptings  of  Aired,  accompanied  that  prelate  to  the 
presence  of  the  earl. 

"  Close,  thou  !  close  !  close  !  Gurth,"  whispered  Ha- 
rold :  "  for  this  is  a  confession  against  man's  pride,  and 
sorely  doth  it  shame  ;  —  so  that  I  would  have  thy  bold 
sinless  heart  beating  near  to  mine." 

Then,  leaning  his  arm  upon  his  brother's  shoulder,  and 
in  a  voice,  the  first  tones  of  which,  as  betraying  earnest 
emotion,  irresistibly  chained  and  affected  his  noble  au- 
dience, Harold  began  his  tale. 

Yarious  were  the  emotions,  though  all  more  akin  to 
terror  than  repugnance,  with  which  the  listeners  heard 
the  earl's  plain  and  candid  recital. 

Among  the  lay-chiefs  the  impression  made  by  the  com- 
pelled oath  was  comparatively  slight :  for  it  was  the  worst 
vice  of  the  Saxon  laws,  to  entangle  all  charges,  from  the 
smallest  to  the  greatest,  in  a  reckless  multiplicity  of 
oaths,*  to  the  grievous  loosening  of  the  bonds  of  truth  : 
and  oaths  then  had  become  almost  as  much  mere  matter 
of  legal  form,  as  certain  oaths — bad  relic  of  those  times  ! 

*  See  the  judicious  remarks  of  Henry,  "  Hist,  of  Britain,"  on 
this  head.  From  the  lavish  abuse  of  oaths,  perjury  had  come  to 
be  reckoned  one  of  the  national  vices  of  the  Saxons. 


166  HAROLD.  ^ 

—  still  existing  in  our  parliamentary  and  collegiate  pro- 
ceedings, are  deemed  by  men,  not  otherwise  dishonora- 
ble, even  now.  And  to  no  kind  of  oath  was  more  latitude 
given  than  jto  such  as  related  to  fealty  to  a  chief:  for 
these,  in  the  constant  rebellions  which  happened  year 
after  year,  were  openly  violated,  and  without  reproach. 
Not  a  sub-king  in  Wales  who  harried  the  border,  not  an 
earl  who  raised  banner  against  the  Basileus  of  Britain, 
but  infringed  his  oath  to  be  good  man  and  true  to  the 
lord  paramount ;  and  even  William  the  Norman  himself 
never  found  his  oath  of  fealty  stand  in  his  way,  whenever 
he  deemed  it  right  and  expedient  to  take  arms  against 
his  suzerain  of  France. 

On  the  churchmen  the  impression  was  stronger  and 
more  serious  :  not  that  made  by  the  oath  itself,  but  by 
the  relics  on  which  the  hand  had  been  laid.  They  looked 
at  each  other,  doubtful  and  appalled,  when  the  earl 
ceased  his  tale  ;  while  only  among  the  laymen  circled  a 
murmur  of  mingled  wrath  at  William's  bold  design  on 
their  native  land,  and  of  scorn  at  the  thought  that  an 
oath,  surprised  and  compelled,  should  be  made  the  in- 
atrument  of  treason  to  a  whole  people. 

"  Thus,"  said  Harold,  after  a  pause,  u  thus  have  I 
made  clear  to  you  my  conscience,  and  revealed  to  you 
the  only  obstacle  between  your  offers  and  my  choice. 
From  the  keeping  of  an  oath  so  extorted,  and  so  deadly 
to  England,  this  venerable  prelate  and  mine  own  soul 
have  freed  me.  Whether  as  king  or  as  subject,  I  shall 
alike  revere  the  living  and  their  long  posterity  more  than 


HAROLD.  167 

the  dead  men's  bonts,  and,  with  sword  and  with  battle 
axe,  hew  out  against  the  invader  my  best  atonement  for 
the  lips'  weakness  and  the  heart's  desertion.  But  whe- 
ther, knowing  what  hath  passed,  ye  may  jiot  deem  it 
safer  for  the  land  to  elect  another  king, — this  it  is  which, 
free  and  forethoughtful  of  every  chance,  ye  should  now 
decide." 

With  these  words  he  stepped  from  the  dais,  and  retired 
into  the  oratory  that  adjoined  the  chamber,  followed  by 
Gurth.  The  eyes  of  the  priests  then  turned  to  Aired, 
and  to  them  the  prelate  spoke  as  he  had  done  before  to 
Harold  ;  —  he  distinguished  between  the  oath  and  its 
fulfilment  —  between  the  lesser  sin  and  the  greater  —  the 
one  which  the  Church  could  absolve  —  the  one  which  no 
Church  had  the  right  to  exact,  and  which,  if  fulfilled,  no 
penance  could  expiate.  He  owned  frankly,  nevertheless, 
that  it  was  the  difficulties  so  created,  that  had  made  him 
incline  to  the  Atheling  :  but,  convinced  of  that  prince's 
incapacity,  even  in  the  most  ordinary  times,  to  rule  Eng- 
land, he  shrank  yet  more  from  such  a  choice,  when  the 
swords  of  the  Norman  were  already  sharpening  for  con- 
test. Finally  he  said,  "  If  a  man  as  fit  to  defend  us  a? 
Harold  can  be  found,  let  us  prefer  him  :  if  not " 

"  There  is  no  other  man  !"  cried  the  thegns  with  one 
voice.  "And,"  said  a  wise  old  chief,  "  had  Harold  sought 
to  play  a  trick  to  secure  the  throne,  he  could  not  have 
devised  one  more  sure  than  the  tale  he  hath  now  told  us. 
What !  just  when  we  are  most  assured  that  the  doughtiest 
and  deadliest  foe  that  our  land  can  brave,  waits  but  for 


168  HAROLD. 

Edward's  death  to  enforce  on  us  a  stranger's  yoke- 
what !  shall  we  for  that  very  reason  deprive  ourselves  01 
the  only  man  able  to  resist  him  ?  Harold  hath  taken  an 
oath !  God  wot !  who  among  us  have  not  taken  some 
oath  at  law  for  which  they  have  deemed  it  meet  after- 
wards to  do  a  penance  or  endow  a  convent  ?  The  wisest 
means  to  strengthen  Harold  against  that  oath,  is  to  show 
the  moral  impossibility  of  fulfilling  it,  by  placing  him  on 
the  throne.  The  best  proof  we  can  give  to  this  insolent 
Norman  that  England  is  not  for  prince  to  leave,  or  sub- 
ject to  barter,  is  to  choose  solemnly  in  our  Witan  the 
very  chief  whom  his  frauds  prove  to  us  that  he  fears  the 
most.  Why,  William  would  laugh  in  his  own  sleeve  to 
summon  a  king  to  descend  from  his  throne  to  do  him  the 
homage  which  that  king,  in  the  different  capacity  of 
subject,  had  (we  will  grant,  even  willingly)  promised  to 
render." 

This  speech  spoke  all  the  thoughts  of  the  laymen,  and, 
with  Alred's  previous  remarks,  reassured  all  the  eccle- 
siastics. They  were  easily  induced  to  believe  that  the 
usual  Church  penances,  and  ample  Church  gifts,  would 
suffice  for  the  insult  offered  to  the  relics  ;  and,  —  if  they 
in  so  grave  a  case  outstripped,  in  absolution,  an  autho- 
rity amply  sufficing  for  all  ordinary  matters, — Harold,  as 
king,  might  easily  gain  from  the  pope  himself  that  full 
pardon  and  shrift,  which,  as  mere  earl,  against  the  prince 
of  the  Normans,  he  would  fail  of  obtaining. 

These  or  similar  reflections  soon  terminated  the  sus- 
pense of  the  select  council ;  and  Aired  sought  the  earl 


HAROLD.  169 

in  the  oratory,  to  summon  him  back  to  the  conclave. 
The  two  brothers  were  kneeling  side  by  side  before  the 
little  altar  ;  and  there  was  something  inexpressibly  touch- 
ing in  their  humble  attitudes,  their  clasped  supplicating 
hands,  in  that  moment  when  the  crown  of  England  rested 
above  their  House. 

The  brothers  rose,  and,  at  Alred's  sign,  followed  the 
prelate  into  the  council-room.  Aired  briefly  communi- 
cated the  result  of  the  conference  ;  and,  with  an  aspect, 
and  in  a  tone,  free  alike  from  triumph  and  indecision, 
Harold  replied  :  — 

"  As  ye  will,  so  will  I.  Place  me  only  where  I  can 
most  serve  the  common  cause.  Remain  you  now,  know- 
ing my  secret,  a  chosen  and  standing  council :  too  great 
is  my  personal  stake  in  this  matter  to  allow  my  mind  to 
be  unbiassed  ;  judge  ye,  then,  and  decide  for  me  in  all 
things :  your  minds  should  be  calmer  and  wiser  than 
mine ;  in  all  things  I  will  abide  by  your  counsel ;  and 
thus  I  accept  the  trust  of  a  nation's  freedom." 

Each  thegn  then  put  his  hand  into  Harold's,  aud  called 
himself  Harold's  man. 

"  Now,  more  than  ever,"  said  the  wise  old  thegn  who 
had  before  spoken,  "  will  it  be  needful  to  heal  all  dissen- 
sion in  the  kingdom  —  to  reconcile  with  us  Mercia  and 
Northumbria,  and  make  the  kingdom  one  against  the  foe. 
You,  as  Tostig's  brother,  have  done  well  to  abstain  from 
active  interference ;  you  do  well  to  leave  it  to  us  to 
negotiate  the  necessary  alliance  between  all  brave  and 
good  men." 
II.  — 15 


170  HAROLD. 

"And  to  that  end,  as  imperative  for  the  public  weal, 
you  consent,"  said  Aired,  thoughtfully,  "to  abide  by  our 
advice,  whatever  it  be  ? " 

"Whatever  it  be,  so  that  it  serve  England,"  answered 
the  earl. 

A  smile,  somewhat  sad,  flitted  over  the  prelate's  pale 
lips,  and  Harold  was  once  more  alone  with  Gurth. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

The  soul  of  all  council  and  cabal  on  behalf  of  Harold, 
which  had  led  to  the  determination  of  the  principal 
chiefs,  and  which  now  succeeded  it  —  was  Haco. 

His  rank  as  son  of  Sweyn,  the  first-born  of  Godwin's 
house  —  a  rank  which  might  have  authorized  some  pre- 
tensions on  his  own  part,  gave  him  all  field  for  the  exer- 
cise of  an  intellect,  singularly  keen  and  profound.  Ac- 
customed to  an  atmosphere  of  practical  state-craft  in  the 
Norman  court,  with  faculties  sharpened  from  boyhood  bv 
vigilance  and  meditation,  he  exercised  an  extraordinary 
influence  over  the  simple  understandings  of  the  homely 
clergy  and  the  uncultured  thegns.  Impressed  with  the 
conviction  of  his  early  doom,  he  felt  no  interest  in  the 
objects  of  others  ;  but  equally  believing  that  whatever  of 
bright,  and  brave,  and  glorious,  in  his  brief,  condemned 
career,  was  to  be  reflected  on  him  from  the  light  of 
Harold's  destiny,  the  sole  desire  of  a  nature,  which,  under 


HAROLD.  171 

other  auspices,  would  have  been  intensely  daring  and 
ambitious,  was  to  administer  to  Harold's  greatness.  No 
prejudice,  no  principle,  stood  in  the  way  of  this  dreary 
enthusiasm.  As  a  father,  himself  on  the  brink  of  the 
grave,  schemes  for  the  worldly  grandeur  of  the  son,  in 
whom  he  confounds  and  melts  his  own  life,  so  this  sombre 
and  predestined  man,  dead  to  earth  and  to  joy  and  the 
emotions  of  the  heart,  looked  beyond  his  own  tomb,  to 
that  existence  in  which  he  transferred  and  carried  on  his 
ambition. 

If  the  leading  agencies  of  Harold's  memorable  career 
might  be,  as  it  were,  symbolized  and  allegorized,  by  the 
living  beings  with  which  it  was  connected — as  Edith  was 
the  representative  of  stainless  Truth  —  as  Gurth  was  the 
type  of  dauntless  Duty  —  as  Hilda  embodied  aspiring 
Imagination  —  so  Haco  seemed  the  personation  of 
Worldly  Wisdom.  And,  cold  in  that  worldly  wisdom, 
Haco  labored  on,  now  conferring  with  Aired  and  the 
partisans  of  Harold  ;  now  closeted  with  Edwin  and  Mor- 
car ;  now  gliding  from  the  chamber  of  the  sick  king.  — 
That  wisdom  foresaw  all  obstacles,  smoothed  all  difficul- 
ties ;  ever  calm,  never  resting  ;  marshalling  and  harmo- 
nizing the  things  to  be,  like  the  ruthless  hand  of  a 
tranquil  Fate.  But  there  was  one  with  whom  Haco  was 
more  often  than  with  all  others — one  whom  the  presence 
of  Harold  had  allured  to  that  anxious  scene  of  intrigue, 
and  whose  heart  leapt  high  at  the  hopes  whispered  from 
the  smileless  lips  of  Haco. 


It2  HAROLD, 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

It  was  the  second  day  after  that  which  assured  him 
the  allegiance  of  the  thegns,  that  a  message  was  brought 
to  Harold  from  the  Lady  Aldyth.  She  was  in  Oxford, 
at  a  convent,  with  her  young  daughter  by  the  Welch 
king  ;  she  prayed  him  to  visit  her.  The  earl,  whose  active 
mind,  abstaining  from  the  intrigues  around  him,  was 
delivered  up  to  the  thoughts,  restless  and  feverish,  which 
haunt  the  hopes  of  all  active  minds,  was  not  unwilling  to 
escape  awhile  from  himself.  He  went  to  Aldyth.  The 
royal  widow  had  laid  by  the  signs  of  mourning  ;  she  was 
dressed  with  the  usual  stately  and  loose-robed  splendor 
of  Saxon  matrons,  and  all  the  proud  beauty  of  her  youth 
was  restored  to  her  cheek.  At  her  feet  was  that  daughter 
who  afterwards  married  the  Fleance  so  familiar  to  us  in 
Shakspeare,  and  became  the  ancestral  mother  of  those 
Scottish  kings,  who  had  passed,  in  pale  shadows,  across 
the  eyes  of  Macbeth  ;  *  by  the  side  of  that  child,  Harold, 
to  his  surprise,  saw  the  ever  ominous  face  of  Haco. 

But,  proud  as  was  Aldyth,  all  pride  seemed  humbled 
into  woman's  sweeter  emotions  at  the  sight  of  the  earl, 
and  she  was  at  first  unable  to  command  words  to  answer 
his  greeting. 

*  And  so,  from  Gryffyth,  beheaded  by  his  subjects,  descended 
Charles  Stuart. 


HAROLD.  113 

Gradual!},  however,  she  warmed  into  cordial  confidence. 
She  touched  lightly  on  her  past  sorrows  ;  she  permitted 
it  to  be  seen  that  her  lot  with  the  fierce  Gryffyth  had 
been  one  not  more  of  public  calamity  than  of  domestic 
grief;  and  that,  in  the  natural  awe  and  horror  which  the 
murder  of  her  lord  had  caused,  she  felt  rather  for  the  ill- 
starred  king  than  the  beloved  spouse.  She  then  passed 
to  the  differences  still  existing  between  her  house  and 
Harold's,  and  spoke  well  and  wisely  of  the  desire  of  the 
young  earls  to  conciliate  his  grace  and  favor. 

While  thus  speaking,  Morcar  and  Edwin,  as  if  acci- 
dentally, entered,  and  their  salutations  of  Harold  were 
such  as  became  their  relative  positions;  reserved,  not 
distant  —  respectful,  not  servile.  With  the  delicacy  of 
high  natures,  they  avoided  touching  on  the  cause  before 
the  Witan  (fixed  for  the  morrow),  on  which  depended 
their  earldoms  or  their  exile. 

Harold  was  pleased  by  their  bearing,  and  attracted 
towards  them  by  the  memory  of  the  affectionate  words 
that  had  passed  between  him  and  Leofric,  their  illustrious 
grandsire,  over  his  father's  corpse.  He  thought  then  of 
his  own  prayer:  "Let  there  be  peace  between  thine  and 
mine  !  "  and  looking  at  their  fair  and  stately  youth,  and 
noble  carriage,  he  could  not  but  feel  that  the  men  of 
Northumbria  and  of  Mercia  had  chosen  well.  The  dis- 
course, however,  was  naturally  brief,  since  thus  made 
general ;  the  visit  soon  ceased,  and  the  brothers  attended 
Harold  to  the  door,  with  the  courtesy  of  the  times.  Then 
15* 


174  HAROLD. 

Haco  said,  with  that  faint  movement  of  the  lips  which 
was  his  only  approach  to  a  smile, 

"Will  ye  not,  noble  thegns,  give  your  hands  to  my 
kinsman  ?  " 

"  Surely,"  said  Edwin,  the  handsomer  and  more  gentle 
of  the  two,  and  who,  having  a  poet's  nature,  felt  a  poet's 
enthusiasm  for  the  gallant  deeds  even  of  a  rival, — "sure- 
ly, if  the  earl  will  accept  the  hands  of  those  who  trust 
never  to  be  compelled  to  draw  sword  against  England's 
hero." 

Harold  stretched  forth  his  hand  in  reply,  and  that  cor- 
dial and  immemorial  pledge  of  our  national  friendships 
was  interchanged. 

Gaining  the  street,  Harold  said  to  his  nephew, 

"  Standing  as  I  do  towards  the  young  earls,  that  ap- 
peal of  thine  had  been  better  omitted." 

"Nay,"  answered  Haco;  "their  cause  is  already  pre- 
judged in  their  favor.  And  thou  must  ally  thyself  with 
the  heirs  of  Leofric,  and  the  successors  of  Si  ward." 

Harold  made  no  answer.  There  was  something  in  the 
positive  tone  of  this  beardless  youth  that  displeased  him  ; 
but  he  remembered  that  Haco  was  the  son  of  Sweyn, 
Godwin's  first-born,  and  that,  but  for  Sweyn's  crimes, 
Haco  might  have  held  the  place  in  England  he  held  him- 
self, and  looked  to  the  same   august  destinies  beyond, 

In  the  evening  a  messenger  from  the  Roman  house 
arrived,  with  two  letters  for  Harold  ;  one  from  Hilda, 
that  contained  but  these  words:  "Again  peril  menaces 


HAROLD.  175 

thee,  but  in  the  shape  of  good.  Beware  !  and,  above  all, 
of  the  evil  that  wears  the  form  of  wisdom." 

The  other  letter  was  from  Edith  ;  it  was  long  for  the 
letters  of  that  age,  and  every  sentence  spoke  a  heart 
wrapped  in  his. 

Heading  the  last,  Hilda's  warnings  were  forgotten. 
The  picture  of  Edith  —  the  prospect  of  a  power  that 
might  at  last  effect  their  union,  and  reward  her  long  de- 
votion—  rose  before  him,  to  the  exclusion  of  wilder  fan- 
cies and  loftier  hopes  ;  and  his  sleep  that  night  was  full 
of  youthful  and  happy  dreams. 

The  next  day  the  Witan  met.  The  meeting  was  less 
stormy  than  had  been  expected  ;  for  the  minds  of  most 
men  were  made  up,  and  so  far  as  Tostig  was  interested, 
the  facts  were  too  evident  and  notorious,  the  witnesses 
too  numerous,  to  leave  any  option  to  the  judges.  Ed- 
ward, on  whom  alone  Tostig  had  relied,  had  already,  with 
his  ordinary  vacillation,  been  swayed  towards  a  right  de- 
cision, partly  by  the  counsels  of  Aired  and  his  other 
prelates,  and  especially  by  the  representations  of  Haco, 
whose  grave  bearing  and  profound  dissimulation  had 
gained  a  singular  influence  over  the  formal  and  melan- 
choly king. 

By  some  previous  compact  or  understanding  between 
the  opposing  parties,  there  was  no  attempt,  however,  to 
push  matters  against  the  offending  Tostig  to  vindictive 
extremes.  There  was  no  suggestion  of  outlawry,  or  pun- 
ishment, beyond  the  simple  deprivation  of  the  earldom  he 
had  abused.     And  in  return  for  this  moderation  on  th? 


176  HAROLD 

one  side,  the  other  agreed  to  support  and  iatify  the  new 
election  of  the  Northumbrians.  Morcar  was  thus  formally 
invested  with  the  vice-kingship  of  that  great  realm  ;  while 
Edwin  was  confirmed  in  the  earldom  of  the  principal  part 
zf  Mercia. 

On  the  announcement  of  these  decrees,  which  were 
received  with  loud  applause  by  all  the  crowd  assembled 
to  hear  them,  Tostig,  rallying  round  him  his  house-carles, 
left  the  town.  He  went  first  to  Githa,  with  whom  his 
wife  had  sought  refuge ;  and,  after  a  long  conference 
with  his  mother,  he,  and  his  haughty  countess,  journeyed 
to  the  sea-coast,  and  took  ship  for  Flanders. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Gurth'  and  Harold  were  seated  in  close  commune  in 
the  earl's  chamber,  at  an  hour  long  after  the  complin  (or 
second  vespers),  when  Aired  entered  unexpectedly.  The 
old  man's  face  was  unusually  grave,  and  Harold's  pene- 
trating eye  saw  that  he  was  gloomy  with  matters  of  great 
m;ment. 

"  Harold,"  said  the  prelate,  seating  himself,  "  the  hour 
has  come  to  test  thy  truth,  when  thou  saidst  that  thou 
wert  ready  to  make  all  sacrifice  to  thy  land,  and  further, 
that  thou  wouldst  abide  by  the  counsel  of  those  free  from 
thy  passions,  and  looking  on  thee  only  as  the  instrument 
of  England's  weal." 


HAROLD.  ITT 

"  Speak  on,  father,"  said  Harold,  turning  somewhat 
pale  at  the  solemnity  of  the  address  ;  "  I  am  ready,  if  the 
council  so  desire,  to  remain  a  subject,  and  aid  in  the 
choice  of  a  worthier  king." 

"Thou  divinest  me  ill,"  answered  Aired;  "I  do  not 
call  on  thee  to  lay  aside  the  crown,  but  to  crucify  the 
heart.  The  decree  of  the  Witan  assigns  Mercia  and 
Northumbria  to  the  sons  of  Algar.  The  old  demarca- 
tions of  the  heptarchy,  as  thou  knowest,  are  scarce  worn 
out ;  it  is  even  now  less  one  monarchy,  than  various 
states  retaining  their  own  laws,  and  inhabited  by  different 
races,  who,  under  the  sub-kings  called  earls,  acknowledge 
a  supreme  head  in  the  Basileus  of  Britain.  Mercia  hath 
its  March  law  and  its  prince  ;  Northumbria  its  Dane  law, 
and  its  leader.  To  elect  a  king  without  civil  war,  these 
realms,  for  so  they  are,  must  unite  with  and  sanction  the 
Witans  elsewhere  held.  Only  thus  can  the  kingdom  be 
firm  against  foes  without  and  anarchy  within  ;  and  the 
more  so,  from  the  alliance  between  the  new  earls  of  those 
great  provinces  and  the  House  of  Gryffyth,  which  still 
lives  in  Caradoc  his  son.  What  if  at  Edward's  death 
Mercia  and  Northumbria  refuse  to  sanction  thy  acces- 
sion ?  What,  if,  when  all  our  force  were  needed  against 
the  Norman,  the  Welch  broke  loose  from  their  hills,  and 
the  Scots  from  their  moors  !  Malcolm  of  Cumbria,  now 
King  of  Scotland,  is  Tostig's  dearest  friend,  while  his 
people  side  with  Morcar.  Yerily  these  are  dangers  enow 
for  a  new  king,  even  if  William's  sword  slept  in  its  sheath." 

"  Thou  speakest  the  words  of  wisdom,"  said  Harold, 
15*  2l 


118  HAROLD. 

44  but  I  knew  beforehand  that  he  who  wears  a  crown  mus. 
abjure  repose." 

44  Not  so  ;  there  is  one  way,  and  but  one,  to  reconcile 
all  England  to  thy  dominion — to  win  to  thee  not  the 
cold  neutrality  but  the  eager  zeal  of  Mercia  and  North- 
umbria ;  to  make  the  first  guard  thee  from  the  Welch, 
the  last  be  thy  rampart  against  the  Scot.  In  a  word, 
thou  must  ally  thyself  with  the  blood  of  these  young 
earls;  thou  must  wed  with  Aldyth  their  sister." 

The  earl  sprang  to  his  feet  aghast. 

"No  —  no  IV  he  exclaimed;  "not  that! — any  sacrifice 
but  that ! — rather  forfeit  the  throne  than  resign  the  heart 
that  leans  on  mine  !  Thou  knowest  my  pledge  to  Edith, 
my  cousin  ;  pledge  hallowed  by  the  faith  of  long  years. 
No — no,  have  mercy  —  human  mercy;  I  can  wed  no 
other  !  —  any  sacrifice  but  that ! " 

The  good  prelate,  though  not  unprepared  for  this 
burst,  was  much  moved  by  its  genuine  anguish  ;  but, 
steadfast  to  his  purpose,  he  resumed  :  — 

"Alas,  my  son,  so  say  we  all  in  the  hour  of  trial  — 
any  sacrifice  but  that  which  duty  and  Heaven  ordain. 
Resign  the  throne  thou  canst  not,  or  thou  leavest  the 
land  without  a  ruler,  distracted  by  rival  claims  ahd 
ambitions,  an  easy  prey  to  the  Norman.  Resign  thy 
human  affections  thou  canst  and  must;  and  the  more,  0 
Harold,  that  even  if  duty  compelled  not  this  new  alliance, 
the  old  tie  is  one  of  sin,  which,  as  king,  and  as  high 
example  in  high  place  to  all  men,  thy  conscience  within, 
and  the  Church  without,  summoning  thee  to  break.    How 


HAROLD.  lit 

purify  the  erring  lives  of  the  churchmen,  if  thyself  a  rebel 
to  the  Church  ?  and  if  thou  hast  thought  that  thy  power 
as  king  might  prevail  on  the  Roman  Pontiff  to  grant 
dispensation  for  wedlock  within  the  degrees,  and  that  so 
thou  mightest  legally  confirm  thy  now  illegal  troth  ;  be- 
think thee  well,  thou  hast  a  more  dread  and  urgent  boon 
now  to  ask  —  in  absolution  from  thine  oath  to  William. 
Both  prayers,  surely,  our  Roman  father  will  not  grant. 
Wilt  thou  choose  that  which  absolves  from  sin,  or  that 
which  consults  but  thy  carnal  affections  ?  w 

Harold  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  groaned 
aloud  in  his  strong  agony. 

"Aid  me,  Gurth,"  cried  Aired,  "thou,  sinless  and  spot- 
less ;  thou,  in  whose  voice  a  brother's  love  can  blend  with 
a  Christian's  zeal ;  aid  me,  Gurth,  to  melt  the  stubborn 
but  to  comfort  the  human,  heart." 

Then  Gurth,  with  a  strong  effort  over  himself,  knelt  by 
Harold's  side,  and  in  strong  simple  language,  backed 
the  representations  of  the  priest.  In  truth,  all  argument 
drawn  from  reason,  whether  in  the  state  of  the  land,  or 
the  new  duties  to  which  Harold  was  committed,  were  on 
the  one  side,  and  unanswerable  ;  on  the  other,  was  but 
that  mighty  resistance  which  love  opposes  ever  to  reason. 
And  Harold  continued  to  murmur,  while  his  hands  con- 
cealed his  face. 

"Impossible  ! — she  who  trusted,  who  trusts — who  so 
'oves —  she  whose  whole  youth  hath  been  consumed  in 
patient  faith  in  me  !  —  Resign  her  !  and  for  another  !  I 
cannot  —  I  cannot.     Take  from  me  the  throne!  —  Oh 


180  HAROLD. 

vain  heart  of  man,  that  so  long  desired  its  own  curse  !  — 
Crown  the  Atheling  ;  my  manhood  shall  defend  his  youth. 
■ — But  not  this  offering!     No,  no  —  I  will  not!" 

It  were  tedious  to  relate  the  rest  of  that  prolonged 
and  agitated  conference.  All  that  night,  till  the  last 
stars  waned,  and  the  bells  of  prime  were  heard  from 
church  and  convent,  did  the  priest  and  the  brother  alter- 
nately plead  and  remonstrate,  chide  and  soothe ;  and  still 
Harold's  heart  clung  to  Edith's,  with  its  bleeding  roots. 
At  length  they,  perhaps  not  unwisely,  left  him  to  himself; 
and  as,  whispering  low  their  hopes  and  their  fears  of  the 
result  of  the  self-conflict,  they  went  forth  from  the  con- 
vent, Haco  joined  them  in  the  court-yard,  and  while  his 
cold  mournful  eye  scanned  the  faces  of  priest  and  brother, 
he  asked  them  "  how  they  had  sped  ?  " 

Aired  shook  his  head  and  answered  — 

"  Man's  heart  is  more  strong  in  the  flesh  than  true  to 
the  spirit." 

"Pardon  me,  father,"  said  Haco,  "if  I  suggest  that 
your  most  eloquent  and  persuasive  ally  in  this,  were 
Edith  herself.  Start  not  so  incredulously  ;  it  is  because 
she  loves  the  earl  more  than  her  own  life,  that  —  once 
show  her  that  the  earl's  safety,  greatness,  honor,  duty, 
lie  in  release  from  his  troth  to  her — that  nought  save  his 
erring  love  resists  your  councils  and  his  country's  claims 
—  and  Edith's  voice  will  have  more  power  than  yours." 

The  virtuous  prelate,  more  acquainted  with  man's 
Belfishness  than   woman's  devotion,  only  replied   by  an 


HAROLD.  18i 

impatient  gesture.    But  Gurth,  lately  wedded  to  a  woman 
worthy  of  him,  said  gravely  — 

"  Haco  speaks  well,  my  father ;  and  methinks  it  is  due 
to  both  that  Edith  should  not,  unconsulted,  be  abandoned 
by  him  for  whom  she  has  abjured  all  others ;  to  whom 
she  has  been  as  devoted  in  heart  as  if  sworn  wife  already. 
Leave  we  awhile  my  brother,  never  the  slave  of  passion, 
and  with  whom  England  must  at  last  prevail  over  all 
selfish  thought ;  and  ride  we  at  once  to  tell  to  Edith 
what  we  have  told  to  him  ;  or  rather  —  woman  can  best 
in  such  a  case  speak  to  woman — let  us  tell  all  to  our  lady 
—  Edward's  wife,  Harold's  sister,  and  Edith's  holy  god- 
mother—  and  abide  by  her  counsel.  On  the  third  day 
we  shall  return." 

"Go  we  so  charged,  noble  Gurth,"  said  Haco,  ob- 
serving the  prelate's  reluctant  countenance,  "  and  leave 
we  our  reverend  father  to  watch  over  the  earl's  sharp 
struggle." 

"  Thou  speakest  well,  my  son,"  said  the  prelate,  "  and 
thy  mission  suits  the  young  and  the  layman  better  than 
the  old  and  the  priest." 

"  Let  us  go,  Haco,"  said  Gurth,  briefly.  "  Deep,  sore, 
and  lasting,  is  the  wound  I  inflict  on  the  brother  of  my 
love  ;  and  my  own  heart  bleeds  in  his  ;  but  he  himself 
hath  taught  me  to  hold  England  as  a  Roman  held  Rome."  I 

II.  — 16 


182  HAROLD 


CHAPTER  X. 

It  is  the  nature  of  that  happiness  which  we  derive 
from  our  affections  to  be  calm  ;  its  immense  influence 
upon  our  outward  life  is  not  known  till  it  is  troubled  or 
withdrawn.  By  placing  his  heart  at  peace,  man  leaves 
vent  to  his  energies  and  passions,  and  permits  their  cur- 
rent to  flow  towards  the  aims  and  objects  which  interest 
labor  or  arouse  ambition.  Thus  absorbed  in  the  occu- 
pation without,  he  is  lulled  into  a  certain  forgetfulness 
of  the  value  of  that  internal  repose  which  gives  health 
and  vigor  to  the  faculties  he  employs  abroad.  But  once 
mar  this  scarce-felt,  almost  invisible  harmony,  and  the 
discord  extends  to  the  remotest  chords  of  our  active 
being.  Say  to  the  busiest  man  whom  thou  seest  in  mart, 
camp,  or  senate,  who  seems  to  thee  all  intent  upon  his 
worldly  schemes,  "Thy  home  is  reft  from  thee  —  thy 
household  gods  are  shattered  —  that  sweet  noiseless  con- 
tent in  the  regular  mechanism  of  the  springs,  which  set 
the  large  wheels  of  thy  soul  into  movement  is  thine 
nevermore  !  "  —  and  straightway  all  exertion  seems  rob- 
bed of  its  object  —  all  aim  of  its  alluring  charm. 
"Othello's  occupation  is  gone!"  With  a  start,  that 
man  will  awaken  from  the  sunlit  visions  of  noontide  am- 
bition, and  exclaim  in  his  desolate  anguish,  "  What  are 
all  the  rewards  to  my  labor,  now  thou  hast  robbed  me  of 


HAROLD.  183 

repose  ?  How  little  are  all  the  gains  wrung  from  strife. 
in  a  world  of  rivals  and  foes,  compared  to  the  smile 
whose  sweetness  I  knew  not  till  it  was  lost ;  and  the 
sense  of  security  from  mortal  ill  which  I  took  from  the 
trust  and  sympathy  of  love  ! " 

Thus  was  it  with  Harold  in  that  bitter  and  terrible 
crisis  of  his  fate.  This  rare  and  spiritual  love,  which 
had  existed  on  hope,  which  had  never  known  fruition, 
had  become  the  subtlest,  the  most  exquisite  part  of  his 
being  j  this  love,  to  the  full  and  holy  possession  of  which, 
every  step  in  his  career  seemed  to  advance  him,  was  it 
now  to  be  evermore  reft  from  his  heart,  his  existence,  at 
the  very  moment  when  he  had  deemed  himself  most 
secure  of  its  rewards — when  he  most  needed  its  consola- 
tions ?  Hitherto,  in  that  love  he  had  lived  in  the  future 
— he  had  silenced  the  voice  of  the  turbulent  human  pas- 
sion by  the  whisper  of  the  patient  angel,  "A  little  while 
yet,  and  thy  bride  sits  beside  thy  throne  !"  Now  what 
was  that  future  !  how  joyless,  how  desolate  !  The 
splendor  vanished  from  Ambition  —  the  glow  from  the 
face  of  Fame  —  the  sense  of  Duty  remained  alone  to 
counteract  the  pleadings  of  Affection  ;  but  Duty,  no 
longer  dressed  in  all  the  gorgeous  colorings  it  took  be- 
fore from  glory  and  power  —  Duty  stern,  and  harsh,  and 
terrible,  as  the  iron  frown  of  a  Grecian  Destiny. 

And  thus,  front  to  front  with  that  Duty,  he  sate  alone 
one  evening,  while  his  lips  murmured,  "  Oh  fatal  voyage, 
oh  lying  truth  in  the  hell-born  prophecy  !  this,  then,  this 
was  the  wife  my  league  with  the  Norman  was  to  win  to 


184  HAROLD. 

my  arms  ! '  In  the  streets  below  were  heard  the  tramp 
of  busy  feet  hurrying  homeward,  and  the  confused  up- 
roar of  joyous  wassail  from  the  various  resorts  of  enter 
tainment  crowded  by  careless  revellers.  And  the  tread 
of  steps  mounted  the  stairs  without  his  door,  and  there 
paused  ; — and  there  was  the  murmur  of  two  voices  with- 
out ;  one  the  clear  voice  of  Gurth, — one  softer  and  more 
troubled.  The  earl  lifted  his  head  from  his  bosom,  and 
his  heart  beat  quick  at  the  faint  and  scarce  heard  sound 
of  that  last  voice.  The  door  opened  gently,  gently :  a 
form  entered,  and  halted  on  the  shadow  of  the  threshold  ; 
the  door  closed  again  by  a  hand  from  without.  The  earl 
rose  to  his  feet,  tremulously,  and  the  next  moment  Edith 
was  at  his  knees  ;  her  hood  thrown  back,  her  face  up- 
turned to  his,  bright  with  unfaded  beauty,  serene  with 
the  grandeur  of  self-martyrdom. 

"  O  Harold  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  dost  thou  remember 
that  in  the  old  time  I  said,  *  Edith  had  loved  thee  less, 
if  thou  hadst  not  loved  England  more  than  Edith?5 
Recall,  recall  those  words.  And  deemest  thou  now  that 
I,  who  have  gazed  for  years  into  thy  clear  soul,  and 
learned  there  to  sun  my  woman's  heart  in  the  light  of  all 
glories  native  to  noblest  man, — deemest  thou,  0  Harold, 
that  I  am  weaker  now  than  then,  when  I  scarce  knew 
what  England  and  glory  were?" 

"Edith,  Edith,  what  wouldst  thou  say  ? — What  know- 
est  thou  ? — Who  hath  told  thee  ? — What  led  thee  hither, 
to  take  part  against  thyself  ?  " 

"  It  matters  not  who  told  me  ;  I  know  all.     What  led 


HAROLD.  185 

me  ?  Mine  own  soul,  and  mine  own  love  ]"  Springing 
to  her  feet,  and  clasping  his  hand  in  both  hers,  while  she 
looked  into  his  face,  she  resumed  :  "  I  do  not  say  to  thee, 
*  Grieve  not  to  part ; '  for  I  know  too  well  thy  faith,  thy 
tenderness  —  thy  heart,  so  grand  and  so  soft.  But  I  do 
say,  '  Soar  above  thy  grief,  and  be  more  than  man  for 
the  sake  of  men  ! '  Yes,  Harold,  for  this  last  time  I  be- 
hold thee.  I  clasp  thy  hand,  I  lean  on  thy  heart,  I  hear 
its  beating,  and  I  shall  go  hence  without  a  tear." 

"  It  cannot,  it  shall  not  be  !  "  exclaimed  Harold,  pas- 
sionately. "  Thou  deceivest  thyself  in  the  divine  pas- 
sion of  the  hour:  thou  canst  not  foresee  the  utterness 
of  the  desolation  to  which  thou  wouldst  doom  thy  life. 
We  were  betrothed  to  each  other  by  ties  strong  as  those 
of  the  Church,  —  over  the  grave  of  the  dead,  under  the 
vault  of  heaven,  in  the  form  of  ancestral  faith  !  The 
bond  cannot  be  broken.  If  England  demands  me,  let 
England  take  me  with  the  ties  it  were  unholy,  even  for 
her  sake,  to  rend  ! " 

"Alas,  alas  ! "  faltered  Edith,  while  the  flush  on  her 
cheek  sank  into  mournful  paleness.  "  It  is  not  as  thou 
sayest.  So  has  thy  love  sheltered  me  from  the  world  — 
so  utter  was  my  youth's  ignorance  or  my  heart's  oblivion 
of  the  stern  laws  of  man,  that  when  it  pleased  thee  that 
we  should  love  each  other,  I  could  not  believe  that  that 
love  was  sin  ;  and  that  it  was  sii  hitherto  I  will  not 
think;  —  now  it  hath  become  one." 

"  No,  no  ! n  cried  Harold  ;  all  the  eloquence  on  which 
thousands  had  hung,  thrilled  and  spell-bound,  deserting 
16* 


186  HAROLD. 

him  in  that  hour  of  need,  and  leaving  to  him  only  broken 
exclamations, — fragments,  in  each  of  which  his  heart 
itself  seemed  shivered  ;  "  no,  no, — not  sin  ! — sin  only  to 
forsake  thee.  — Hush  !  hush  !  —  This  is  a  dream  —  wait 
till  we  wake  !  True  heart !  noble  soul ! — I  will  not  part 
from  thee  ! " 

"  But  I  from  thee  !  And  rather  than  thou  shouldst  be 
lost  for  my  sake  —  the  sake  of  woman  —  to  honor  and 
conscience,  and  all  for  which  thy  sublime  life  sprang  from 
the  hands  of  Nature  —  if  not  the  cloister,  may  I  find  the 
grave  !  —  Harold,  to  the  last  let  me  be  worthy  of  thee  ; 
and  feel,  at  least,  that  if  not  thy  wife  —  that  bright,  that 
blessed  fate  not  mine !  —  still,  remembering  Edith,  just 
men  may  say,  '  She  would  not  have  dishonored  the  hearth 
of  Harold.'" 

"  Dost  thou  know,"  said  the  earl,  striving  to  speak 
calmly,  "dost  thou  know  that  it  is  not  only  to  resign 
thee  that  they  demand — that  it  is  to  resign  thee,  and  for 
another  ?  " 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Edith  ;  and  two  burning  tears,  des- 
pite her  strong  and  preternatural  self-exaltation,  swelled 
from  the  dark  fringe,  and  rolled  slowly  down  the  color- 
less cheek,  as  she  added,  with  proud  voice,  "  I  know  it : 
but  that  other  is  not  Aldyth,  it  is  England  !  In  her,  in 
Aldyth,  behold  the  dear  cause  of  thy  native  land  ;  with 
her  enweave  the  love  which  thy  native  land  should  com- 
mand. So  thinking,  thou  art  reconciled,  and  I  consoled 
It  is  not  for  woman  that  thou  desertest  Edith." 


HAROLD.  18? 

"  Hear,  and  take  from  those  lips  the  strength  and  the 
valor  that  belong  to  the  name  of  Hero  ! "  said  a  deep 
and  clear  voice  behind  ;  and  Gurth,  —  who,  whether  dis- 
trusting the  result  of  an  interview  so  prolonged,  or  ten- 
derly desirous  to  terminate  its  pain,  had  entered  unob- 
served, —  approached,  and  wound  his  arm  caressingly 
round  his  brother.  "  Oh  Harold  !  "  he  said,  "  dear  to  me 
as  the  drops  in  my  heart  is  my  young  bride,  newly  wed  ; 
but  if  for  one  tithe  of  the  claims  that  now  call  thee  to 
the  torture  and  trial  —  yea,  if  but  for  one  hour  of  good 
service  to  freedom  and  law — I  would  consent  without  a 
groan  to  behold  her  no  more.  And  if  men  asked  me 
how  I  could  so  conquer  man's  affections,  I  would  point 
to  thee,  and  say,  '  So  Harold  taught  my  youth  by  his 
lessons,  and  my  manhood  by  his  life/  Before  thee,  visi- 
ble, stand  Happiness  and  Love,  but  with  them,  Shame  • 
before  thee,  invisible,  stands  Woe,  but  with  Woe  are 
England  and  eternal  Glory  !   Choose  between  them." 

"  He  hath  chosen,"  said  Edith,  as  Harold  turned  to 
'he  wall,  and  leaned  against  it,  hiding  his  face  ;  then, 
approaching  softly,  she  knelt,  lifted  to  her  lips  the  hem 
of  his  robe,  and  kissed  it  with  devout  passion. 

Harold  turned  suddenly,  and  opened  his  arms.  Edith 
resisted  not  that  mute  appeal ;  she  rose,  and  fell  on  his 
breast,  sobbing. 

Wild  and  speechless  was  that  last  embrace.  The  moon, 
which  had  witnessed  their  union  by  the  heathen  grave, 
now  rose  above  the  tower  of  the  Christian  church,  and 
looked  wan  and  cold  upon  their  parting. 


188  HAROLD. 

Solemn  and  clear  paused  the  orb — a  cloud  passed  over 
the  disk — and  Edith  was  gone.  The  cloud  rolled  away, 
and  again  the  moon  shone  forth  ;  and  where  had  knelt 
the  fair  form,  and  looked  the  last  look  of  Edith,  stood 
the  motionless  image,  and  gazed  the  solemn  eye,  of  the 
dark  son  of  Sweyn.  But  Harold  leant  on  the  breast  of 
Gurth,  and  saw  not  who  had  supplanted  the  soft  and 
loving  Fylgia  of  his  life  —  saw  nought  in  the  unfverse 
ut  the  blank  of  desolation  ! 


BOOK   ELEVENTH. 

THE   NORMAN   SCHEMER,   AND   THE   NORWEGIAN   SEA-KING 


CHAPTER   I. 

It  was  the  eve  of  the  5th  of  January — the  eve  of  the 
day  announced  to  King  Edward  as  that  of  his  deliver- 
ance from  earth  ;  and  whether  or  not  the  prediction  had 
wrought  its  own  fulfilment  on  the  fragile  frame  and  sus- 
ceptible nerves  of  the  king,  the  last  of  the  line  of  Cerdic 
was  fast  passing  into  the  solemn  shades  of  eternity. 

Without  the  walls  of  the  palace,  through  the  whole 
city  of  London,  the  excitement  was  indescribable.  All 
the  river  before  the  palace  was  crowded  with  boats ;  all 
the  broad  space  on  the  Isle  of  Thorny  itself,  thronged 
with  anxious  groups.  But  a  few  days  before,  the  new- 
built  abbey  had  been  solemnly  consecrated ;  with  the 
completion  of  that  holy  edifice,  Edward's  life  itself 
seemed  done.  Like  the  kings  of  Egypt,  he  had  built  his 
tomb. 

Within  the  palace,  if  possible,  still  greater  was  the 
agitation,  more  dread  the  suspense.  Lobbies,  halls,  cor- 
ridors, stairs,  ante-rooms,  were  filled  with  churchmen  and 

(189) 


190  HAROLD. 

thegns.     Nor  was  it  alone  for  news  of  the  king's  state 
that  their  brows  were  so  knit,  that  their  breath  came  and 
went  so  short.     It  is  not  when  a  great  chief  is  dying,  that 
men  compose  their  minds  to  deplore  a  loss.    That  comes 
long  after,  when  the  worm  is  at  its  work,  and  comparison 
between  the  dead  and  the  living  often  rights  the  one  to 
wrong  the  other.     But  while  the  breath  is  struggling, 
and  the  eye  glazing,  life  busy  in  the  by-standers,  mur- 
murs, "  Who  shall  be  the  heir  ?  "     And,  in  this  instance, 
never  had  suspense  been  so  keenly  wrought  up  into  hope 
and  terror  ;  for  the  news  of  Duke  William's  designs  had 
now  spread  far  and  near ;  and  awful  was  the  doubt,  whe- 
ther the  abhorred  Norman  should  receive  his  sole  sanction 
to  so  arrogant  a  claim  from  the  parting  assent  of  Ed- 
ward.    Although,  as  we  have  seen,  the  crown  was  not 
absolutely  within  the  bequests  of  a  dying  king,  but  at 
the  will  of  the  Witan,  still,  in  circumstances  so  unparal- 
leled, the  utter  failure  of  all  natural  heirs,  save  a  boy 
feeble  in  mind  as  body,  and  half  foreign  by  birth  and 
rearing  ;  the  love  borne  by  Edward  to  the  Church  ;  and 
the  sentiments,  half  of  pity,  half  of  reverence,  with  which 
he  was  regarded  throughout  the  land  ;  —  his  dying  word 
would  go  far  to  influence  the  council  and  select  the  suc- 
cessor.    Some  whispering  to  each  other,  with  pale  lips, 
all  the  dire  predictions  then  current  in  men's  mouths  and 
breasts  ;  some  in  moody  silence  ;  all  lifted  eager  eyes,  as, 
from  time  to  time,  a  gloomy  Benedictine  passed  in  the 
direction  to  or  fro  the  king's  chamber. 

In  that  chamber,  traversing  the  past  of  eight  centuries, 


IIAROLD.  191 

enter  we  with  hushed  and  noiseless  feet  —  a  room  known 
to  us  in  many  a  later  scene  and  legend  of  England's 
troubled  history,  as  "  The  Painted  Chamber,"  long 
called  "The  Confessor's."  At  the  farthest  end  of  that 
long  and  lofty  space,  raised  upon  a  regal  platform,  and 
roofed  with  regal  canopy,  was  the  bed  of  death. 

At  the  foot  stood  Harold  ;  on  one  side  knelt  Edith,  the 
king's  lady  ;  at  the  other  Aired ;  while  Stigand  stood 
near  —  the  holy  rood  in  his  hand  —  and  the  abbot  of  the 
new  monastery  of  Westminster  by  Stigand's  side  ;  and 
all  the  greatest  thegns,  including  Morcar  and  Edwin, 
Gurth  and  Leofwine,  all  the  more  illustrious  prelates  and 
abbots,  stood  also  on  the  dais. 

In  the  lower  end  of  the  hall,  the  king's  physician  was 
warming  a  cordial  over  the  brazier,  and  some  of  the  su- 
bordinate officers  of  the  household  were  standing  in  the 
niches  of  the  deep-set  windows;  and  they  —  not  great 
eno'  for  other  emotions  than  those  of  human  love  for 
their  kindly  lord  —  they  wept. 

The  king,  who  had  already  undergone  the  last  holy 
offices  of  the  Church,  was  lying  quite  quiet,  his  eyes  half 
closed,    breathing    low    but    regularly.     He   had   been 

w 

speechless  the  two  preceding  days  ;  on  this  he  had  uttered 
a  few  words,  which  showed  returning  consciousness.  His 
hand,  reclined  on  the  coverlid,  was  clasped  in  his  wife's, 
who  was  praying  fervently.  Something  in  the  touch  of 
her  hand,  or  the  sound  of  her  murmur,  stirred  the  king 
from  the  growing  lethargy,  and  his  eyes  opening,  fixed 
on  the  kneeling  lady. 


192  HAROLD. 

" A*  !"  said  he,  faintly,  "ever  good,  ever  meek! 
Think  not  I  did  not  love  thee ;  hearts  will  be  read 
yonder;  we  shall  have  our  guerdon." 

The  lady  looked  up  through  her  streaming  tears.  Ed- 
ward released  his  hand,  and  laid  it  on  her  head,  as  in 
benediction.  Then,  motioning  to  the  abbot  of  Westmin- 
ster, he  drew  from  his  finger  the  ring  which  the  palmers 
had  brought  to  him,*  and  murmured  scarce  audibly  — 

"  Be  this  kept  in  the  House  of  St.  Peter  in  memory  of 
me!" 

"He  is  alive  now  to  us  —  speak  —  "  whispered  more 
than  one  thegn,  one  abbot,  to  Aired  and  to  Stigand. 
And  Stigand,  as  the  harder  and  more  worldly  man  of  the 
two,  moved  up,  and  bending  over  the  pillow,  between 
Aired  and  the  king,  said  — 

"0  royal  son,  about  to  win  the  crown  to  which  that 
of  earth  is  but  an  idiot's  wreath  of  withered  leaves,  not 
ye',  may  thy  soul  forsake  us.  Whom  commendest  thou 
to  us  as  shepherd  to  thy  bereaven  flock  ?  whom  shall  we 
admonish  to  tread  in  those  traces  thy  footsteps  leave 
below  ?" 

i  The  king  made  a  slight  gesture  of  impatience  ;  and  the 
queen,  forgetful  of  all  but  her  womanly  sorrow,  raised 
her  eye  and  finger  in  reproof  that  the  dying  was  thus  dis- 
turbed. But  the  stake  was  too  weighty,  the  suspense 
too  keen,  for  that  reverent  delicacy  in  those  around  ;  and 

*  Brompt.  Chron. 


HAROLD  193 

the  thegns  pressed  on  each  other,  and  a  murmur  rose, 
which  murmured  the  name  of  Harold. 

"Bethink  thee,  my  son,"  said  Aired,  in  a  tender  voice, 
tremulous  with  emotion  ;  "  the  young  Atheling  is  too 
much  an  infant  yet  for  these  anxious  times." 

Edward  signed  his  head  in  assent. 

11  Then,"  said  the  Norman  bishop  of  London,  who  till 
that  moment  had  stood  in  the  rear,  almost  forgotten 
amongst  the  crowd  of  Saxon  prelates,  but  who  himself 
had  been  all  eyes  and  ears.  "  Then,"  said  Bishop  Wil- 
liam, advancing,  "  if  thine  own  royal  line  so  fail,  who  so 
near  to  thy  love,  who  so  worthy  to  succeed,  as  William 
thy  cousin,  the  count  of  the  Normans  ? " 

Dark  was  the  scowl  on  the  brow  of  every  thegn,  and  a 
muttered  "  No,  no  :  never  the  Norman  ! "  was  heard 
distinctly.  Harold's  face  flushed,  and  his  hand  was  on 
the  hilt  of  his  ateghar.  But  no  other  sign  gave  he  of 
his  interest  in  the  question. 

The  king  lay  for  some  moments  silent,  but  evidently 
striving  to  re-collect  his  thoughts.  Meanwhile,  the  two 
arch-prelates  bent  over  him  —  Stigand  eagerly,  Aired 
fondly. 

Then,  raising  himself  on  one  arm,  while  with  the  other 
ne  pointed  to  Harold  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  the  king 
said  — 

"Your  hearts,  I  see,  are  with  Harold  the  earl :  so  be 
it."- 

At   those  words  he  fell  back  on  his  pillow ;    a  loud 

IL  — 17  2m 


194  HAROLD. 

shriek  burst  from  his  wife's  lips ;  all  crowded  around  ;  he 
lay  as  the  dead. 

At  the  cry,  and  the  indescribable  movement  of  the 
throng,  the  physician  came  quick  from  the  lower  part  of 
the  hall.  He  made  his  way  abruptly  to  the  bed-side,  and 
said,  chidingly,  "  Air,  give  him  air."  The  throng  parted, 
the  leach  moistened  the  king's  pale  lips  with  the  cordial, 
but  no  breath  seemed  to  come  forth,  no  pulse  seemed  to 
beat ;  and  while  the  two  prelates  knelt  before  the  human 
body  and  by  the  blessed  rood,  the  rest  descended  the 
dais,  and  hastened  to  depart.  Harold  only  remained ; 
but  he  had  passed  from  the  foot  to  the  head  of  the  bed. 

The  crowd  had  gained  the  centre  of  the  hall,  when  a 
sound  that  startled  them,  as  if  it  had  come  from  the 
grave,  chained  every  foot-step  —  the  sound  of  the  king's 
voice,  loud,  terribly  distinct,  and  full,  as  with  the  vigor 
of  youth  restored.  All  turned  their  eyes,  appalled  ;  all 
stood  spell-bound. 

There  sate  the  king  upright  on  the  bed,  his  face  seen 
above  the  kneeling  prelates,  and  his  eyes  bright  and 
shining  down  the  hall. 

"  Yea,"  he  said,  deliberately,  "yea,  as  this  shall  be  a 
real  vision  or  a  false  illusion,  grant  me,  Almighty  One, 
the  power  of  speech  to  tell  it." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  thus  resumed  :  — 

"  It  was  on  the  banks  of  the  frozen  Seine,  this  day 
thirty-and-one  .winters  ago,  that  two  holy  monks,  to 
whom  the  gift  of  prophecy  was  vouchsafed,  told  me  of 
direful  woes  that  should  fall  on  England  :  '  For  God,' 


HAROLD.  195 

said  they,  '  after  thy  death,  has  delivered  England  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  fiends  shall  wander  over  the 
land.'  Then  I  asked  in  ray  sorrow,  'Can  nought  avert 
the  do'om  ?  and  may  not  my  people  free  themselves  by 
repentance,  like  the  Ninevites  of  old  ? '  And  the  Prophets 
answered,  '  Nay,  nor  shall  the  calamity  cease,  and  the 
curse  be  completed,  till  a  green  tree  be  sundered  in  twain, 
and  the  part  cut  off  carried  away ;  yet  move,  of  itself,  to 
the  ancient  trunk,  unite  to  the  stem,  bud  out  with  the 
blossom,  and  stretch  forth  its  fruit.  So  said  the  monks, 
and  even  now,  ere  I  spoke,  I  saw  them  again,  there 
standing  mute,  and  with  the  paleness  of  dead  men,  by 
the  side  of  my  bed  ! " 

These  words  were  said  so  calmly,  and  as  it  were  so 
rationally,  that  their  import  became  doubly  awful  from 
the  cold  precision  of  the  tone.  A  shudder  passed  through 
the  assembly,  and  each  man  shrank  from  the  king's  eye, 
which  seemed  to  each  man  to  dwell  on  himself.  Sud- 
denly that  eye  altered  in  its  cold  beam ;  suddenly  the 
voice  changed  its  deliberate  accent  ;  the  grey  hairs 
seemed  to  bristle  erect,  the  whole  face  to  work  with  horror ; 
the  arms  stretched  forth,  the  form  writhed  on  the  couch, 
distorted  fragments  from  the  older  Testament  rushed 
from  the  lips:  "  Sanguelac  !  Scmguelac  !  —  the  Lake  of 
Blood,"  shrieked  forth  the  dying  king;  "the  Lord  hath 
bent  his  bow — the  Lord  hath  bared  his  sword.  He 
comes  down  as  a  warrior  to  war,  and  his  wrath  is  in  the 
steel  and  the  flame.  He  boweth  the  mountains,  and 
comes  down,  and  darkness  is  under  his  feet!" 


196  HAROLD, 

As  if  revived  but  for  these  tremendous  denunciations, 
while  the  last  word  left  his  lips  the  frame  collapsed,  the 
eyes  set,  and  the  king  fell  a  corpse  in  the  arms  of  Ha- 
rold. 

But  one  smile  of  the  sceptic  or  the  world-man  was 
seen  on  the  paling  lips  of  those  present :  that  smile  was 
not  on  the  lips  of  warriors  and  men  of  mail.  It  distorted 
the  sharpened  features  of  Stigand,  the  world-man  and 
the  miser,  as,  passing  down,  and  amidst  the  group,  he 
said,  "  Tremble  ye  at  the  dreams  of  a  sick  old  man  ?  " 


CHAPTER   II. 

The  time  of  year  customary  for  the  National  Assem- 
bly |  the  recent  consecration  of  Westminster,  for  which 
Edward  had  convened  all  his  chief  spiritual  lords,  the 
anxiety  felt  for  the  infirm  state  of  the  king,  and  the  in- 
terest as  to  the  impending  succession  —  all  concurred  to 
permit  the  instantaneous  meeting  of  a  Witan  worthy, 
from  rank  and  numbers,  to  meet  the  emergency  of  the 
time,  and  proceed  to  the  most  momentous  election  ever 
yet  known  in  England.  The  thegns  and  prelates  met  in 
haste.  Harold's  marriage  with  Aldyth,  which  had  taken 
place  but  a  few  weeks  before,  had  united  all  parties  with 
his  own  ;  not  a  claim  counter  to  the  great  earl's  was  ad- 
vanced ;  the  choice  was  unanimous.  The  necessity  of 
terminating  at  such  a  crisis  all  suspense  throughout  the 


HAROLD.  19T 

kingdom,  and  extinguishing  the  danger  of  all  counter 
intrigues,  forbade  to  men  thus  united  any  delay  in  solem- 
nizing their  decision  ;  and  the  august  obsequies  of  Ed- 
ward were  followed  on  the  same  day  by  the  coronation 
of  Harold. 

It  was  in  the  body  of  the  mighty  Abbey  Church,  not 
indeed  as  we  see  it  now,  after  successive  restorations  and 
remodellings,  but  simple  in  its  long  rows  of  Saxon  arch 
and  massive  column,  blending  the  first  Teuton  with  the 
last  Roman  masonries,  that  the  crowd  of  the  Saxon  free- 
men assembled  to  honor  the  monarch  of  their  choice. 
First  Saxon  king,  since  England  had  been  one  monarchy, 
selected  not  from  the  single  House  of  Cerdic  —  first 
Saxon  king,  not  led  to  the  throne  by  the  pale  shades  of 
fabled  ancestors  tracing  their  descent  from  the  Father- 
god  of  the  Teuton,  but  by  the  spirits  that  never  know 
a  grave — the  arch-eternal  givers  of  crowns  and  founders 
of  dynasties  —  Yalor  and  Fame. 

Aired  and  Stigand,  the  two  great  prelates  of  the  realm, 
had  conducted  Harold  to  the  church,*  and  up  the  aisle 

*  It  seems  by  the  coronation  service  of  Ethelred  II.,  still  extant, 
that  two  bishops  officiated  in  the  crowning  of  the  king;  and  hence, 
perhaps,  the  discrepancy  in  the  chroniclers,  some  contending  that 
Harold  was  crowned  by  Aired,  others,  by  Stigand.  It  is  notice- 
able, however,  that  it  is  the  apologists  of  the  Normans  who  assign 
that  office  to  Stigand,  who  was  in  disgrace  with  the  pope,  and 
deemed  no  lawful  bishop.  Thus,  in  the  Bayeux  tapestry,  the  label, 
"  Stigand,"  is  significantly  affixed  to  the  officiating  prelate,  as  if  to 
convey  insinuation  that  Harold  was  not  lawfully  crowned.  Flor- 
ence, by  far  the  best  authority,  says  distinctly,  that  Harold  was 
crowned  by  Aired.     The  ceremonial  of  the  coronation  described  in 


198  HAROLD. 

to  J:he  altar,  followed  by  the  chiefs  of  the  Witan  in  their 
long  robes ;  and  the  clergy  with  their  abbots  and  bishops 
sung  the  anthems — "Fermetur  manus  tua,"  and  "  Gloria 
Patri.'1 

And  now  the  music  ceased  ;  Harold  prostrated  him- 
self before  the  altar,  and  the  sacred  melody  burst  forth 
with  the  great  hymn,  "  Te  Deum." 

As  it  ceased,  prelate  and  thegn  raised  their  chief  from 
the  floor,  and  in  imitation  of  the  old  custom  of  Teuton 
and  Northman  —  when  the  lord  of  their  armaments  was 
borne  on  shoulder  and  shield  —  Harold  mounted  a  plat- 
form, and  rose  in  full  view  of  the  crowd. 

"  Thus,"  said  the  arch-prelate,  "  we  choose  Harold 
son  of  Godwin  for  lord  and  for  king."  And  the  thegns 
drew  round,  and  placed  hand  on  Harold's  knee,  and  cried 
aloud,  "  We  choose  thee,  0  Harold,  for  lord  and  for 
king."  And  row  by  row,  line  by  line,  all  the  multitude 
shouted  forth,  "  We  choose  thee,  0  Harold,  for  lord  and 
king."  So  there  he  stood  with  his  calm  brow,  facing  all, 
Monarch  of  England,  and  Basileus  of  Britain. 

Now  unheeded  amidst  the  throng,  and  leaning  against 
a  column  in  the  arches  of  the  aisle,  was  a  woman  with 
her  veil  round  her  face  ;  and  she  lifted  the  veil-  for  a 
moment  to  gaze  on  that  lofty  brow,  and  the  tears  were 
streaming  fast  down  her  cheek,  but  her  face  was  not  sad. 

"  Let  the  vulgar  not  see,  to  pity  or  scorn  thee,  daughte 

the  text,  is  for  the  most  part  given  on  the  authority  of  the  "Cot*.oii 
MS.,"  quoted  by  Sharon  Turner,  vol.  iii.  js>.  151. 


HAROLD.  199 

of  kings  as  great  as  he  who  abandons  and  forsakes 
thee!"  murmured  a  voice  in  her  ear;  and  the  form  of 
Hilda,  needing  no  support  from  column  or  wall,  rose 
erect  by  the  side  of  Edith.  Edith  bowed  her  head  and 
lowered  the  veil,  as  the  king  descended  the  platform  and 
stood  again  by  the  altar,  while  clear  through  the  hushed 
assembly  rang  the  words  of  his  triple  promise  to  his 
people  :  — 

"  Peace  to  his  Church  and  the  Christian  flock. 

"  Interdict  of  rapacity  and  injustice. 

"Equity,  and  mercy  in  his  judgments,  as  God  the  gra- 
cious and  just  might  show  mercy  to  him." 

And  deep  from  the  hearts  of  thousands  came  the  low 
"Amen." 

Then  after  a  short  prayer,  which  each  prelate  repeated, 
the  crowd  saw  afar  the  glitter  of  the  crown  held  over  the 
head  of  the  king.  The  voice  of  the  consecrator  was  heard 
low  till  it  came  to  the  words  "  So  potently  and  royally 
may  he  rule,  against  all  visible  and  invisible  foes,  that 
the  royal  throne  of  the  Angles  and  Saxons  may  not  de- 
sert his  sceptre." 

As  the  prayer  ceased,  came  the  symbolical  rite  of 
anointment.  Then  pealed  the  sonorous  organ,*  and  s* 
emn  along  the  aisles  rose  the  anthem  that  closed  with 
the  chorus,  which  the  voice  of  the  multitude  swelled, 
"  May  the  king  live  for  ever  !  "  Then  the  crown  that 
nad  gleamed  in  the  trembling  hand  of  the  prelate,  rested 

*  Introduced  into  our  churches  in  the  n'nth  century. 


200  HAROLD. 

firm  in  its  splendor  on  the  front  of  the  king.  And  the 
sceptre  of  rule,  and  the  rod  of  justice,  "  to  soothe  the 
pious  and  terrify  the  bad,'7  were  placed  in  the  royal  hands. 
And  the  prayer  and  the  blessings  were  renewed, — till 
the  close  ;  *  Bless,  Lord,  the  courage  of  this  prince,  and 
prosper  the  works  of  his  hand.  With  his  horn,  as  the 
horn  of  the  rhinoceros,  may  he  blow  the  waters  to  the 
extremities  of  the  earth  ;  and  may  He  who  has  ascended 
to  the  skies  be  his  aid  for  ever  ! " 

Then  Hilda  stretched  forth  her  hand  to  lead  Edith  from 
the  place.     But  Edith  shook  her  head  and  murmured, — 

"But  once  again,  but  once!"  and  with  involuntary 
step  moved  on. 

Suddenly,  close  where  she  paused,  the  crowd  parted, 
and  down  the  narrow  lane  so  formed  amidst  the  wedged 
and  breathless  crowd  came  the  august  procession  ; — pre- 
late and  thegn  swept  on  from  the  church  to  the  palace ; 
and  alone,  with  firm  and  measured  step,  the  diadem  on 
his  brow,  the  sceptre  in  his  hand,  came  the  king.  Edith 
checked  the  rushing  impulse  at  her  heart,  but  she  bent 
forward,  with  veil  half  drawn  aside,  and  so  gazed  on  that 
face  and  form  of  more  than  royal  majesty,  fondly,  proudly. 
The  king  swept  on  and  saw  her  not ;  love  lived  no  more 
for  him. 


HAROLD.  201 


CHAPTER    III. 

The  boat  shot  over  the  royal  Thames.  Borne  along 
the  waters,  the  shouts  and  the  hymns  of  swarming  thou- 
sands from  the  land  shook  like  a  blast  the  gelid  air  of  the 
Wolfmonth.  All  space  seemed  filled  and  noisy  with  the 
name  of  Harold  the  king.  Fast  rowed  the  rowers,  on 
shot  the  boat ;  and  Hilda's  face,  stern  and  ominous,  turned 
to  the  still  towers  of  the  palace,  gleaming  wide  and 
white  in  the  wintry  sun.  Suddenly  Edith  lifted  her  hand 
from  her  bosom,  and  said  passionately, — 

"  Oh  I  mother  of  my  mother,  I  cannot  live  again  in  the 
house  where  the  very  walls  speak  to  me  of  him  ;  all  things 
chain  my  soul  to  the  earth  ;  and  my  soul  should  be  in 
Heaven,  that  its  prayers  may  be  heard  by  the  heedful 
angels.  The  day  that  the  holy  Lady  of  England  pre- 
dicted hath  come  to  pass,  and  the  silver  cord  is  loosed  at 
last.  Ah  why,  why  did  I  not  believe  her  then  ?  why  did 
I  then  reject  the  cloister  ?  Yet  no,  I  will  not  repent ;  at 
least  I  have  been  loved  !  But  now  I  will  go  to  the  nun- 
nery of  Waltham,  and  kneel  at  the  altars  he  hath  hallowed 
to  the  mone  and  the  monechyn." 

"Edith,"  said  the  Yala,  u  Thou  wilt  not  bury  thy  life, 

yet  young,  in  the  living  grave !     And,  despite  all  that 

now  severs  you  —  yea,  despite  Harold's  new  and  loveless 

ties  —  still  clearer  than  ever  it  -is  written  in  the  heavens, 
17* 


202  HAROLD. 

that  a  day  shall  come,  in  which  you  are  to  be  evermore 
united,  Many  of  the  shapes  I  have  seen,  many  of  the 
sounds  I  have  heard,  in  the  trance  and  the  dream,  fade 
in  the  troubled  memory  of  waking  life.  But  never  yet 
hath  grown  doubtful  or  dim  the  prophecy,  that  the  truth 
pledged  by  the  grave  shall  be  fulfilled." 

"  Oh,  tempt  not !  Oh,  delude  not I"  cried  Edith,  while 
the  blood  rushed  over  her  brow.  "  Thou  knowest  this 
cannot  be.  Another's  !  he  is  another's  !  and  in  the  words 
thou  hast  uttered  there  is  deadly  sin." 

"  There  is  no  sin  in  the  resolves  of  a  fate  that  rules  us 
in  spite  of  ourselves.  Tarry  only  till  the  year  bring  round 
the  birth-day  of  Harold  ;  for  my  sayings  shall  be  ripe 
with  the  grape,  and  when  the  feet  of  the  vine-herd  are 
red  in  the  Month  of  the  Tine,*  the  Nomas  shall  knit  ye 
together  again  ! " 

Edith  clasped  her  hands  mutely,  and  looked  hard  into 
the  face  of  Hilda, — looked  and  shuddered,  she  knew  not 
why. 

The  boat  landed  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  river,  be- 
yond the  walls  of  Waltham.  The  frost  was  sharp  in  the 
glitter  of  the  unwarming  sun  ;  upon  leafless  boughs  hung 
the  barbed  ice-gems ;  and  the  crown  was  on  the  brows 
of  Harold  !  And  at  night,  within  the  walls  of  the  con- 
vent, Edith  heard  the  hymns  of  the  kneeling  monks ;  and 
the  blasts  howled,"  and  the  storm  arose,  and  the  voices  of 
destroying  hurricanes  were  blent  with  the  swell  of  the 
choral  hymns. 


*  The  Wyn- month:  October. 


HAROLD.  203 


CHAPTER   IV 

Tostig  sate  in  the  halls  of  Bruges,  and  with  him  sate 
Judith,  his  haughty  wife.  The  earl  and  his  countess  were 
playing  at  chess  (or  the  game  resembling  it,  which  amused 
the  idlesse  of  that  age),  and  the  countess  had  put  her 
lord's  game  into  mortal  disorder,  when  Tostig  swept  his 
hand  over  the  board,  and  the  pieces  rolled  on  the  floor. 

"  That  is  one  way  to  prevent  defeat,"  said  Judith,  with 
a  half-smile  and  half-frown. 

"It  is  the  way  of  the  bold  and  the  wise,  wife  mine,', 
answered  Tostig,  rising  ;  "  let  all  be  destruction  where 
thou  thyself  canst  win  not !  Peace  to  these  trifles  1  I 
cannot  keep  my  mind  to  the  mock  fight ;  it  flies  to  the 
real.  Our  last  news  sours  the  taste  of  the  wine,  and 
steals  the  sleep  from  my  couch.  It  says  that  Edward 
cannot  live  through  the  winter,  and  that  all  men  bruit 
abroad,  there  can  be  no  king  save  Harold  my  brother." 

"And  will  thy  brother  as  king  give  to  thee  again  thy 
domain  as  earl  ?  n 

"  He  must !  "  answered  Tostig,  "  and,  despite  all  our 
breaches,  with  soft  message  he  will.  For  Harold  has  the 
heart  of  the  Saxon,  to  which  the  sons  of  one  father  are 
dear ;  and  Githa,  my  mother,  when  we  first  fled,  con- 
trolled the  voice  of  my  revenge,  and  bade  me  wait  patient 
and  hope  yet  V 


204  -         HAROLD. 

Scarce  had  these  words  fallen  from  Tostig's  lips,  when 
the  chief  of  his  Danish  house-carles  came  in,  and  an' 
nounced  the  arrival  of  a  bode  from  England. 

"  His  news?  his  news?"  cried  the  earl;  "with  his 
own  lips  let  him  speak  his  news." 

The  house-carle  withdrew,  but  to  usher  in  the  messen- 
ger, an  Anglo-Dane. 

"  The  weight  on  thy  brow  shows  the  load  on  thy 
heart,"  cried  Tostig.     "Speak,  and  be  brief." 

11  Edward  is  dead." 

"Ha!  and  who  reigns?" 

"  Thy  brother  is  chosen  and  crowned." 

The  face  of  the  earl  grew  red  and  pale  in  a  breath, 
and  successive  emotions  of  envy  and  old  rivalship,  hum- 
bled pride  and  fierce  discontent,  passed  across  his  turbu- 
lent heart ;  but  these  died  away  as  the  predominant 
thought  of  self-interest,  and  somewhat  of  that  admira- 
tion for  success  which  often  seems  like  magnanimity  in 
grasping  minds,  and  something,  too,  of  haughty  exulta- 
tion, that  he  stood  a  king's  brother  in  the  halls  of  his 
exile,  came  to  chase  away  the  more  hostile  and  menacing 
feelings.  Then  Judith  approached,  with  joy  on  her  brow, 
and  said  :  — 

"We  shall  no  more  eat  the  bread  of  dependence  even 
at  the  hand  of  a  father ;  and  since  Harold  hath  no  dame 
to  proclaim  to  the  Church,  and  to  place  on  the  dais,  thy 
wife,  0  my  Tostig,  will  have  state  in  fair  England  little 
less  than  her  sister  in  Rouen." 

"  Methinks  so  will  it  be,"  said  Tostig.     "How  now, 


HAROLD.  205 

nuncius  ?  why  lookest  thou  so  grim,  and  why  shakest 
thou  thy  head  ?  " 

"  Small  chance  for  thy  dame  to  keep  state  in  the  halls 
of  the  king ;  small  hope  for  thyself  to  win  back  thy 
broad  earldom.  But  a  few  weeks  ere  thy  brother  won 
the  crown,  he  won  also  a  bride  in  the  house  of  thy  spoiler 
and  foe.  Aldyth,  the  sister  of  Edwin  and  Morcar,  is 
Lady  of  England  ;  and  that  union  shuts  thee  out  from 
Northumbria  for  ever." 

At  these  words,  as  if  stricken  by  some  deadly  and  in- 
expressible insult,  the  earl  recoiled,  and  stood  a  moment 
mute  with  rage  and  amaze.  His  singular  beauty  became 
distorted  into  the  lineaments  of  a  fiend.  He  stamped 
with  his  foot  as  he  thundered  a  terrible  curse.  Then 
haughtily  waving  his  hand  to  the  bode,  in  sign  of  dis- 
missal, he  strode  to  and  fro  the  room  in  gloomy  pertur- 
bation. 

Judith,  like  her  sister  Matilda,  a  woman  fierce  and 
vindictive,  continued,  by  that  sharp  venom  that  lies  in 
the  tongue  of  the  sex,  to  incite  still  more  the  intense 
resentment  of  her  lord.  Perhaps  some  female  jealousies 
of  Aldyth  might  contribute  to  increase  her  own  indigna- 
tion. But  without  such  frivolous  addition  to  anger,  there 
was  cause  eno'  in  this  marriage  thoroughly  to  complete 
the  alienation  between  the  king  and  his  brother.  It  wa& 
impossible  that  one  so  revengeful  as  Tostig  should  not 
cherish  the  deepest  animosity,  not  only  against  the  peo- 
ple that  had  rejected,  but  the  new  earl  that  had  succeeded 
him.     In  wedding  the  sister  of  this  fortunate  rival  and 

II.  — 18 


206  HAROLD. 

despoiler,  Harold  could  not,  therefore,  but  gall  him  in 
his  most  sensitive  sores  of  soul.  The  king,  thus,  formally 
approved  and  sanctioned  his  ejection,  solemnly  took  part 
with  his  foe,  robbed  him  of  all  legal  chance  of  recover- 
ing his  dominions,  and,  in  the  words  of  the  bode,  "  shut 
him  out  from  Northumbria  for  ever."  Nor  was  this  even 
all.  Grant  his  return  to  England  ;  grant  a  reconciliation 
with  Harold ;  still  those  abhorred  and  more  fortunate 
enemies,  necessarily  made  now  the  most  intimate  part  of 
the  king's  family,  must  be  most  in  his  confidence,  would 
curb  and  chafe  and  encounter  Tostig  in  every  scheme  for 
his  personal  aggrandizement.  His  foes,  in  a  word,  were 
in  the  camp  of  his  brother. 

While  gnashing  his  teeth  with  a  wrath  the  more  deadly 
because  he  saw  not  yet  his  way  to  retribution,  —  Judith, 
pursuing  the  separate  thread  of  her  own  cogitations,  said — 

"And  if  my  sister's  lord,  the  count  of  the  Normans, 
had,  as  rightly  he  ought  to  have,  succeeded  his  cousin 
the  Monk-king,  then  I  should  have  a  sister  on  the  throne, 
and  thou  in  her  husband  a  brother  more  tender  than 
Ha/old.  One  who  supports  his  barons  with  sword  and 
mail,  and  gives  the  villeins  rebelling  against  them  but 
the  brand  and  the  cord." 

"  Ho  1 "  cried  Tostig,  stopping  suddenly  in  his  disor 
dered  strides,  "  Kiss  me,  wife,  for  those  words  !  They 
have  helped  me  to  power,  and  lit  me  to  revenge.  If  thou 
wouldst  send  love  to  thy  sister,  take  graphium  and  parch- 
ment, and  write  fast  as  a  scribe.  Ere  the  sun  is  an  hour 
older,  I  am  on  my  road  to  Count  William." 


HAROLD.  201 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  duke  of  the  Normans  was  in  the  forest,  or  park 
land  of  Rouvray,  and  his  qtiens  and  his  knights  stood 
around  him,  expecting  some  new  proof  of  his  strength 
and  his  skill  with  the  bow  ;  for  the  duke  was  trying  some 
arrows,  a  weapon  he  was  ever  employed  in  seeking  to 
improve  ;  sometimes  shortening,  sometimes  lengthening 
the  shaft,  and  suiting  the  wing  of  the  feather,  and  the 
weight  of  the  point,  to  the  nicest  refinement  in  the  law 
of  mechanics.  Gay  and  debonnair,  in  the  brisk  fresh  air 
of  the  frosty  winter,  the  great  count  jested  and  laughed 
as  the  squires  fastened  a  live  bird  by  the  string  to  a  stake 
in  the  distant  sward  ;  and  "Pardex"  said  Duke  William, 
"  Conan  of  Bretagne,  and  Philip  of  France,  leave  us  now 
so  unkindly  in  peace,  that  I  trow  we  shall  never  again 
have  larger  butt  for  our  arrows  than  the  breast  of  yon 
poor  plumed  trembler. " 

As  the  duke  spoke  and  laughed,  all  the  sere  boughs 
behind  him  rattled  and  cranched,  and  a  horse  at  full 
speed  came  rushing  over  the  hard  rime  of  the  sward. 
The  duke's  smile  vanished  in  the  frown  of  his  pride. 
"Bold  rider  and  graceless,"  quoth  he,  "who  thus  comes 
in  the  presence  of  counts  and  princes  ?  n. 

Right  up  to  Duke  William  spurred  the  rider,  and  then 
leaped  from  his  steed  :  vest  and  mantle,  yet  more  rich 


208  HAROLD. 

than  the  duke's,  all  tattered  and  soiled.  No  knee  bent 
the  rider,  no  cap  did  he  doff;  but,  seizing  the  startled 
Norman  with  the  gripe  of  a  hand  as  strong  as  his  own, 
he  led  him  aside  from  the  courtiers,  and  said  — 

"  Thou  knowest  me,  William  ?  though  not  thus  alone 
should  I  come  to  thy  court,  if  I  did  not  bring  thee  a 
crown." 

"  Welcome,  brave  Tostig  ! "  said  the  duke,  marvelling 
"What  meanest  thou?  nought  but  good,  by  thy  words 
and  thy  smile." 

u  Edward  sleeps  with  the  dead  !  —  and  Harold  is  king 
of  all  England  1 " 

"  King  ! — England  ! — King  !  "  faltered  William,  stam- 
mering in  his  agitation.  "  Edward  dead  !  —  Saints  rest 
him  !  England  then  is  mine !  King  !  —  /am  the  king  I 
Harold  hath  sworn  it ;  my  quens  and  prelates  heard  him  ; 
the  bones  of  the  saints  attest  the  oath  ! " 

ft  Somewhat  of  this  have  I  vaguely  learned  from  our 
beau-pere  Count  Baldwin ;  more  will  I  learn  at  thy 
leisure  ;  but  take,  meanwhile,  my  word  as  Miles  and 
Saxon, — never,  while  there  is  breath  on  his  lips,  or  one 
beat  in  his  heart,  will  my  brother,  Lord  Harold,  give  an 
inch  of  English  land  to  the  Norman." 

William  turned  pale  and  faint  with  emotion,  and  leant 
for  support  against  a  leafless  oak. 

Busy  were  the  rumors,  and  anxious  the  watch,  of  the 
quens  .and  knights,  as  their  prince  stood  long  in  the  dis- 
tant glade,  conferring  with  the  rider,  whom  one  or  two 


HAROLD.  209 

of  them  had  recognized  as  Tostig,  the  spouse  of  Matilda's 
sister. 

At  length,  side  by  side,  still  talking  earnestly,  they  re- 
gained the  group ;  and  William,  summoning  the  lord  of 
Tancarville,  bade  him  conduct  Tostig  to  Rouen,  the 
towers  of  which  rose  through  the  forest  trees.  "  Rest 
and  refresh  thee,  noble  kinsman,"  said  the  duke;  "  see 
and  talk  with  Matilda.     I  will  join  thee  anon." 

The  earl  remounted  his  steed,  and  saluting  the  company 
with  a  wild  and  hasty  grace,  soon  vanished  amidst  the 
groves. 

Then  William,  seating  himself  on  the  sward,  mechani- 
cally unstrung  his  bow,  sighing  oft,  and  oft  frowning; 
and  without  vouchsafing  other  words  to  his  lords  than 
"  No  further  sport  to-day  !  "  rose  slowly,  and  went  alone 
through  the  thickest  parts  of  the  forest.  But  his  faithful 
Fitzosborne  marked  his  gloom,  and  fondly  followed  him. 
The  duke  arrived  at  the  borders  of  the  Seine,  where  his 
galley  waited  him  He  entered,  sat  down  on  the  bench, 
and  took  no  notice  of  Fitzosborne,  who  quietly  stepped 
in  after  his  lord,  and  placed  himself  on  another  bench. 

The  little  voyage  to  Rouen  was  performed  in  silence ; 
and  as  soon  as  he  had  gained  his  palace,  without  seeking 
either  Tostig  or  Matilda,  the  duke  turned  into  the  vast 
hall,  in  which  he  was  wont  to  hold  council  with  his 
barons  ;  and  walked  to  and  fro,  "  often,"  said  the  chroni- 
cles, "changing  posture  and  attitude,  and  oft  loosening 
and  tightening,  and  drawing  into  knots,  the  strings  of  his 
mantle." 

18*  2n 


210  HAROLD. 

Fitzosborne,  meanwhile,  had  sought  the  ex  earl,  who 
was  closeted  with  Matilda ;  and  now  returning,  he  went 
boldly  up  to  the  duke,  whom  no  one  else  dared  approach, 
and  said  — 

"  Why,  my  liege,  seek  to  conceal  what  is  already 
known  —  what  ere  the  eve  will  be  in  the  mouths  of  all  ? 
You  are  troubled  that  Edward  is  dead,  and  that  Harold, 
violating  his  oath,  has  seized  the  English  realm." 

"  Truly,"  said  the  duke,  mildly,  and  with  the  tone  of  a 
meek  man  much  injured  ;  "  my  dear  cousin's  death,  and 
the  wrongs  I  have  received  from  Harold  touch  me 
nearly." 

Then  said  Fitzosborne,  with  that  philosophy,  half 
grave  as  became  the  Scandinavian,  half  gay  as  became 
the  Frank :  "  No  man  should  grieve  for  what  he  can  help 
—  still  less  for  what  he  cannot  help.  For  Edward's 
death,  I  trow,  remedy  there  is  none  ;  but  for  Harold's 
treason,  yea  !  Have  you  not  a  noble  host  of  knights  and 
warriors  ?  What  want  you  to  destroy  the  Saxon  and 
seize  his  realm  ?  What  but  a  bold  heart  ?  A  great  deed 
once  well  begun,  is  half  done.  Begin,  count  of  the  Nor- 
mans, and  we  will  complete  the  rest." 

Starting  from  his  sorely  tasked  dissimulation  —  for  all 
William  needed,  and  all  of  which  he  doubted,  was  the  aid 
of  his  haughty  barons,  —  the  duke  raised  his  head,  and 
his  eyes  shone  out.  "  Ha  !  sayest  thou  so  !  then,  by  tb" 
Splendor  of  God,  we  will  do  this  deed.  Haste  thou  — 
rouse  hearts,  nerve  hands — promise,  menace,  win  !  Broad 


HAROLD.  211 

are  the  lands  of  England,  and  generous  a  conqueror's 
hand.  Go  and  prepare  all  my  faithful  lords  for  a 
council,  nobler  than  ever  yet  stirred  the  hearts  and  strung 
the  hands  of  the  sons  of  Rou. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Brief  was  the  sojourn  of  Tostig  at  the  court  of  Rouen ; 
speedily  made  the  contract  between  the  grasping  duke 
and  the  revengeful  traitor.  All  that  had  been  promised 
to  Harold,  was  now  pledged  to  Tostig — if  the  last  would 
assist  the  Norman  to  the  English  throne. 

At  heart,  however,  Tostig  was  ill  satisfied.  His  chance 
conversations  with  the  principal  barons,  who  seemed  to 
look  upon  the  conquest  of  England  as  the  dream  of  a 
madman,  showed  him  how  doubtful  it  was  that  William 
could  induce  his  quens  to  a  service,  to  which  the  tenure 
of  their  fiefs  did  not  appear  to  compel  them  ;  and  at  all 
events,  Tostig  prognosticated  delays  that  little  suited  his 
fiery  impatience.  He  accepted  the  offer  of  some  two  or 
three  ships  which  William  put  at  his  disposal,  under  pre- 
tence to  reconnoitre  the  Northumbrian  coasts,  and  there 
attempt  a  rising  in  his  own  favor.  But  his  discontent 
was  increased  by  the  smallness  of  the  aid  afforded  him  ; 
for  William,  ever  suspicious,  distrusted  both  his  faith  and 
his  power.     Tostig,  with  all  his  vices,  was  a  poor  dis- 


V 


212  HAROLD. 

simulator,  and  his  sullen  spirit  betrayed  itself  when  he 
took  leave  of  his  host. 

"Chance  what  may,"  said  the  fierce  Saxon,  "no 
stranger  shall  seize  the  English  crown  without  my  aid. 
I  offer  it  first  to  thee  ;  but  thou  must  come  to  take  it  in 
time,  or n 

"  Or  what?"  asked  the  duke,  gnawing  his  lip. 

14  Or  the  Father  race  of  Rou  will  be  before  thee  I  My 
horse  paws  without.  Farewell  to  thee,  Norman  ;  sharpen 
thy  swords,  hew  out  thy  vessels,  and  goad  thy  slow 
barons.7' 

Scarce  had  Tostig  departed,  ere  William  began  to 
repent  that  he  had  so  let  him  depart ;  but  seeking  counsel 
of  Lanfranc,  that  wise  minister  reassured  him. 

"Fear  no  rival,  son  and  lord,"  said  he.  "The  bones 
of  the  dead  are  on  thy  side,  and  little  thou  knowest,  as 
yet,  how  mighty  their  fleshless  arms  !  All  Tostig  can  do 
is  to  distract  the  forces  of  Harold.  Leave  him  to  work 
out  his  worst ;  nor  then  be  in  haste.  Much  hath  yet  to 
be  done  —  cloud  must  gather  and  fire  must  form,  ere  the 
bolt  can  be  launched.  Send  to  Harold  mildly,  and  gently 
remind  him  of  oath  and  of  relics  —  of  treaty  and  pledge. 
Put  right  on  thy  side,  and  then " 

"Ah,  what  then?" 

"Rome  shall  curse  the  forsworn  —  Rome  shall  hallow 
thy  banner ;  this  be  no  strife  of  force  against  force,  but 
a  war  ot  religion  ;  and  thou  shalt  have  on  thy  side  the 
conscience  of  man,  and  the  arm  of  the  Church." 

Meanwhile,  Tostig  embarked  at  Harfleur ;  but  instead 


HAROLD.  213 

of  sailing  to  the  northern  coasts  of  England,  he  made 
for  one  of  the  Flemish  ports ;  and  there,  under  various 
pretences,  new  manned  the  Norman  vessels  with  Flem- 
ings, Fins,  and  Northmen.  His  meditations  during  his 
voyage  had  decided  him  not  to  trust  to  William  ;  and 
he  now  bent  his  course,  with  fair  wind  and  favoring 
weather,  to  the  shores  of  his  maternal  uncle,  King  Sweyn 
of  Denmark. 

In  truth,  to  all  probable  calculation,  his  change  of 
purpose  was  politic.  The  fleets  of  England  were  numer- 
ous, and  her  seamen  renowned.  The  Normans  had 
neither  experience  nor  fame  in  naval  fights ;  their  navy 
itself  was  scarcely  formed.  Thus,  even  William's  land- 
ing in  England  was  an  enterprise  arduous  and  dubious. 
Moreover,  even  granting  the  amplest  success,  would  not 
this  Norman  prince,  so  profound  and  ambitious,  be  a 
more  troublesome  lord  to  Earl  Tostig  than  his  own  uncle 
Sweyn  ? 

So,  forgetful  of  the  compact  at  Rouen,  no  sooner  nad 
the  Saxon  lord  come  in  presence  of  the  king  of  the 
Danes,  than  he  urged  on  his  kinsman  the  glory  of  winning 
again  the  sceptre  of  Canute. 

.  A  brave  but  a  cautious  and  wily  veteran,  was  King 
Sweyn  ;  and  a  few  days  before  Tostig  arrived,  he  had 
received  letters  from  his  sister  Githa,  who,  true  to  God- 
win's command,  had  held  all  that  Harold  did  and 
counselled,  as  between  himself  and  his  brother,  wise  and 
just. 

These  letters  had  placed  the  Dane  on  his  guard,  and 


214  HAROLD. 

shown  him  the  true  state  of  affairs  in  England.  So  king 
Svveyn,  smiling,  thus  answered  his  nephew  Tostig :  — 

"A  great  man  was  Canute,  a  small  man  am  I :  scarce 
can  I  keep  my  Danish  dominion  from  the  gripe  of  the 
Norwegian,  while  Canute  took  Norway  without  slash  and 
blow ;  *  but  great  as  he  was,  England  cost  him  hard 
fighting  to  win,  and  sore  peril  to  keep.  Wherefore,  best 
for  the  small  man  to  rule  by  the  light  of  his  own  little 
sense,  nor  venture  to  count  on  the  luck  of  great  Canute; 
—  for  luck  but  goes  with  the  great." 

"Thine  answer/'  said  Tostig,  with  a  bitter  sneer,  "is 
not  what  I  expected  from  an  uncle  and  warrior.  But 
other  chiefs  may  be  found  less  afraid  of  the  luck  of  high 
deeds." 

"So,"  saith  the  Norwegian  chronicler,  "not  just  the 
best  friends,  the  earl  left  the  king,"  and  went  on  in  haste 
to  Harold  Hardrada  of  Norway. 

True  Hero  of  the  North,  true  Darling  of  War  and  of 
Song,  was  Harold  Hardrada !  At  the  terrible  battle  of 
Stiklestad,  at  which  his  brother,  St.  Olave,  had  fallen, 
he  was  but  fifteen  years  of  age,  but  his  body  was  covered 
with  the  wounds  of  a  veteran.  Escaping  from  the  field, 
he  lay  concealed  in  the  house  of  a  Bonder  peasant, 
remote  in  deep  forests,  till  his  wounds  were  healed. 
Thence,  chaunting  by  the  way  (for  a  poet's  soul  burned 
bright  in  Hardrada),  "  That  a  day  would  come  when  his 
name  would  be  great  in  the  land  he  now  left,"  he  went 

*  "Snorro  Sturleson."     Laing. 


HAROLD.  215 

on  into  Sweden,  thence  into  Russia,  and  after  wild 
adventures  in  the  East,  joined  with  the  bold  troop  he  had 
collected  around  him,  that  famous  body-guard  of  the 
Greek  emperors,*  called  the  Vseringers,  and  of  these  he 
became  the  chief.  Jealousies  between  himself  and  the 
Greek  general  of  the  Imperial  forces  (whom  the  Nor- 
wegian chronicler  calls  Gyrger),  ended  in  Harold's  re- 
tirement with  his  Vaeringers  into  the  Saracen  land  of 
Africa.  Eighty  castles  stormed  and  taken,  vast  plunder 
in  gold  and  in  jewels,  and  nobler  meed  in  the  song  of  the 
Scald,  and  the  praise  of  the  brave,  attested  the  prowess 
of  the  great  Scandinavian.  New  laurels,  blood-stained  ; 
new  treasures,  sword-won,  awaited  him  in  Sicily  ;  and 
thence,  rough  foretype  of  the  coming  crusader,  he  passed 
on  to  Jerusalem.  His  sword  swept  before  him  Moslem 
and  robber.  He  bathed  in  Jordan,  and  knelt  at  the 
Holy  Cross. 

Returned  to  Constantinople,  the  desire  for  his  northern 
home  seized  Hardrada.  There  he  heard  that  his  nephew 
Magnus,  the  illegitimate  son  of  St.  Olave,  had  become 
king  of  Norwray, —  and  he  himself  aspired  to  a  throne. 

*  The  Vseringers,  or  Varangi,  mostly  Northmen ;  this  redoubtable 
force,  the  Janissaries  of  the  Byzantine  empire,  afforded  brilliant 
field,  both  of  fortune  and  war,  to  the  discontented  spirits,  or  out- 
lawed heroes  of  the  north.  It  was  joined  afterwards  by  many  of 
the  bravest  and  best-born  of  the  Saxon  nobles,  refusing  to  dwell 
under  the  yoke  of  the  Norman.  Scott,  in  "Count  Robert  of 
Paris,"  which,  if  not  one  of  his  best  romances,  is  yet  full  of  truth 
and  beauty,  has  described  this  renowned  band  with  much  poetical 
vigor  and  historical  fidelity. 


216  HAROLD. 

So  he  gave  up  his  command  under  Zoe  the  empress  ;  but, 
if  Scald  be  believed,  Zoe  the  empress  loved  the  bold 
chief,  whose  heart  was  set  on  Maria,  her  niece.  To  de- 
tain Hardrada,  a  charge  of  mal-appropriation,  whether 
of  pay  or  of  booty,  was  brought  against  him.  He  was 
cast  into  prison.  But  when  the  brave  are  in  danger,  the 
saints  send  the  fair  to  their  help  1  Moved  by  a  holy 
dream,  a  Greek  lady  lowered  ropes  from  the  roof  of  the 
tower  to  the  dungeon  wherein  Hardrada  was  cast.  He 
escaped  from  the  prison,  he  aroused  his  Yaeringers,  they 
flocked  round  their  chief;  he  went  to  the  house  of  his 
lady  Maria,  bore  her  off  to  the  galley,  put  out  into  the 
Black  Sea,  reached  Novgorod  (at  the  friendly  court  of 
whose  king  he  had  safely  lodged  his  vast  spoils),  sailed 
home  to  the  north  ;  and,  after  such  feats  as  became  sea- 
king  of  old,  received  half  of  Norway  from  Magnus  ;  and, 
on  the  death  of  his  nephew,  the  whole  of  that  kingdom 
passed  to  his  sway.  A  king  so  wise  and  so  wealthy,  so 
bold  and  so  dread,  had  never  yet  been  known  in  the 
north.  And  this  was  the  king  to  whom  came  Tostig  the 
earl,  with  the  offer  of  England's  crown. 

It  was  one  of  the  glorious  nights  of  the  north,  and 
winter  had  already  begun  to  melt  into  early  spring,  when 
two  men  sate  under  a  kind  of  rustic  porch  of  rough  pine- 
logs,  not  very  unlike  those  seen  now  in  Switzerland  and 
the  Tyrol.  This  porch  was  constructed  before  a  private 
door,  to  the  rear  of  a  long,  low,  irregular  building  of 
wood,  which  enclosed  two  or  more  court-yards,  and  cov- 
ering an  immense  space  of  ground.     This  private  door 


HAROLD.  211 

seemed  placed  for  the  purpose  of  immediate  descent  to 
the  sea ;  for  the  ledge  of  the  rock  over  which  the  log- 
porch  spread  its  rude  roof,  jutted  over  the  ocean  ;  and 
from  it  a  rugged  stair,  cut  through  the  crag,  descended 
to  the  beach.  The  shore,  with  bold,  strange,  grotesque 
slab,  and  peak,  and  splinter,  curved  into  a  large  creek  ; 
and  close  under  the  cliff  were  moored  seven  war-ships,  high 
and  tall,  with  prows  and  sterns  all  gorgeous  with  gilding 
in  the  light  of  the  splendid  moon.  And  that  rude  timber 
house,  which  seemed  but  a  chain  of  barbarian  huts  linked 
into  one,  was  a  land  palace  of  Hardrada  of  Norway ;  but 
the  true  halls  of  his  royalty,  the  true  seats  of  his  empire, 
were  the  decks  of  those  lofty  war-ships. 

Through  the  small  lattice-work  of  the  windows  of  the 
log-house,  lights  blazed  ;  from  the  roof-top  smoke  curled  ; 
from  the  hall  on  the  other  side  of  the  dwelling,  came  the 
din  of  tumultuous  wassail;  but  the  intense  stillness  of  the 
outer  air,  hushed  in  frost,  and  luminous  with  stars,  con- 
trasted and  seemed  to  rebuke  the  gross  sounds  of  human 
revel.  And  that  northern  night  seemed  almost  as  bright 
as  (but  how  much  more  augustly  calm,  than)  the  noon 
of  the  golden  south ! 

On  a  table,  within  the  ample  porch,  was  an  immense 
bowl,  of  birch-wood  mounted  in  silver,  and  filled  with 
potent  drink ;  and  two  huge  horns,  of  size  suiting  the 
mighty  wassailers  of  the  age.  The  two  -men  seemed  to 
care  nought  for  the  stern  air  of  the  cold  night— true  that 
they  were  wrapped  in  furs,  reft  from  the  polar  bear.   But 

IT. —  19 


218  HAROLD. 

each  had  hot  thoughts  within,  that  gave  greater  warmth 
to  the  veins  than  the  bowl  or  the  bear-skin. 

They  were  host  and  guest  j  and,  as  if  with  the  restless- 
ness of  his  thoughts,  the  host  rose  from  his  seat,  and 
passed  through  the  porch  and  stood  on  the  bleak  rock 
under  the  light  of  the  moon ;  and,  so  seen,  he  seemed 
scarcely  human,  but  some  war-chief  of  the  farthest  time, 
— yea,  of  a  time  ere  the  deluge  had  shivered  those  rocks, 
and  left  beds  on  the  land,  for  the  realm  of  that  icy  sea. 
For  Harold  Hardrada  was,  in  height,  above  all  the  chil- 
dren of  modern  men.  Five  ells  of  Norway  made  the 
height  of  Harold  Hardrada.*  Nor  was  this  stature  ac- 
companied by  any  of  those  imperfections  in  symmetry, 
nor  by  that  heaviness  of  aspect,  which  generally  render 
any  remarkable  excess  above  human  stature  and  strength, 
rather  monstrous  than  commanding.  On  the  contrary, 
his  proportions  were  just,  his  appearance  noble  ;  and  the 
sole  defect  that  the  chronicler  remarks  in  his  shape,  was 
"  that  his  hands  and  feet  were  large,  but  these  were  well 
made."f 

*  Lying's  Snorro  Sturleson.  —  "  The  old  Norwegian  ell  was  less 
than  the  present  ell ;  and  Thorlasius  reckons,  in  a  note  on  this 
chapter,  that  Harold's  stature  would  be  about  four  Danish  ells;  viz. 
about  eight  feet." — Laing's  note  to  the  text.  Allowing  for  the  ex- 
aggeration of  the  chronicler,  it  seems  probable,  at  least,  that  Har- 
drada exceeded  seven  feet.  Since  (as  Laing  remarks  in  the  same 
note),  and  as  we^hall  see  hereafter,  "our  English  Harold  offered 
him,  according  to  both  English  and  Danish  authority,  seven  feet  of 
land  for  a  grave,  or  as  much  more  as  his  stature  exceeding  that  of 
other  men,   might  require." 

f  Snorro  Sturleson. 


HAROLD.  219 

His  face  had  all  the  fair  beauty  of  the  Norseman  ;  his 
hair,  parted  in  locks  of  gold  over  a  brow  that  bespoKe 
the  daring  of  the  warrior  and  the  genius  of  the  bard,  fell 
in  glittering  profusion  to  his  shoulders ;  a  short  beard 
and  long  moustache  of  the  same  color  as  the  hair,  care- 
fully trimmed,  added  to  the  grand  and  masculine  beauty 
of  the  countenance,  in  which  the  only  blemish  was  the 
peculiarity  of  one  eye-brow  being  somewhat  higher  than 
the  other,*  which  gave  something  more  sinister  to  his 
frown,  something  more  arch  to  his  smile.  For,  quick  of 
impulse,  the  Poet- Titan  smiled  and  frowned  often. 

Harold  Hardrada  stood  in  the  light  of  the  moon,  and 
gazing  thoughtfully  on  the  luminous  sea.  Tostig  marked 
him  for  some  moments  where  he  sate  in  the  porch,  and 
then  rose  and  joined  him. 

«<  Why  should  my  words  so  disturb  thee,  0  king  of  the 
Norseman  ?  " 

"  Is  glory,  then,  a  drug  that  soothes  to  sleep  ?  "  re- 
turned the  Norwegian. 

"  I  like  thine  answer,"  said  Tostig,  smiling,  "  and  I  like 
still  more  to  watch  thine  eye  gazing  on  the  prows  of  thy 
war-ships.  Strange  indeed  it  were,  if  thou,  who  hast 
been  fighting  fifteen  years  for  the  petty  kingdom  of  Den- 
mark, should  hesitate  now,  when  all  England  lies  before 
thee  to  seize." 

M'I  hesitate,"  replied  the  king,  "because  he,  wThom 
fortune  has  befriended  so  long,  should  beware  how  he 

*  Suorro  Sturleson. 


220  HAROLD. 

strain  her  favors  too  far.  Eighteen  pitched  battles  fought 
1  in  the  Saracen  land,  and  in  every  one  was  a  victor  — 
never,  at  home  or  abroad,  have  I  known  shame  and  de- 
feat. Doth  the  wind  always  blow  from  one  point? — and 
is  fate  less  unstable  than  the  wind  ? " 

"Now,  out  on  thee,  Harold  Hardrada,"  said  Tostig 
the  fierce ;  "  the  good  pilot  wins  his  way  through  all 
winds,  and  the  brave  heart  fastens  fate  to  its  flag.  All 
men  allow  that  the  North  never  had  warrior  like  thee ; 
and  now,  in  the  mid-day  of  manhood,  wilt  thou  consent 
to  repose  on  the  mere  triumph  of  youth  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  said  the  king,  who,  like  all  true  poets,  had 
something  of  the  deep  sense  of  a  sage,  and  was,  indeed, 
regarded  as  the  most  prudent  as  well  as  the  most  adven- 
turous chief  in  the  North  land, — "  nay,  it  is  not  by  such 
words,  which  my  soul  seconds  too  well,  that  thou  canst 
entrap  a  ruler  of  men.  Thou  must  show  me  the  chances 
of  success,  as  thou  wouldst  to  a  grey-beard.  For  we 
should  be  as  old  men  before  we  engage,  and  as  youths 
when  we  wish  to  perform." 

Then  the  traitor  succinctly  detailed  all  the  weak  points 
in  the  rule  of  his  brother.  A  treasury  exhausted  by  the 
lavish  and  profitless  waste  of  Edward ;  a  land  without 
castle  or  bulwark,  even  at  the  mouths  of  the  rivers ;  a 
people  grown  inert  by  long  peace,  and  so  accustomed  to 
own  lord  and  king  in  the  northern  invaders,  that  a  single 
successful  battle  might  induce  half  the  population  to  in- 
sist on  the  Saxon  coming  to  terms  with  the  foe ;  and, 
yielding,  as  Ironside  did  to  Canute,  one  half  of  the  realm. 


HAROLD.  221 

He  enlarged  on  the  terror  of  the  Norsemen  that  still  ex- 
isted throughout  England,  and  the  affinity  between  the 
Northumbrians  and  East  Anglians  with  the  race  of  Har- 
drada.  That  affinity  would  not  prevent  them  from  resist- 
ing at  the  first ;  but  grant  success,  and  itVould  reconcile 
them  to  the  after  sway.  And,  finally,  he  aroused  Har- 
drada's  emulation  by  the  spur  ef  the  news,  that  the  count 
of  the  Normans  would  seize  the  prize  if  he  himself  de- 
layed to  forestall  him. 

These  various  representations,  and  the  remembrance 
of  Canute's  victory,  decided  Hardrada ;  and,  when  Tos- 
tig  ceased,  he  stretched  his  hand  towards  his  slumbering 
war-ships,  and  exclaimed  : 

11  Eno' ;  you  have  whetted  the  beaks  of  the  ravens,  and 
harnessed  the  steeds  of  the  sea  ! n 


CHAPTER    VII. 

Meanwhile,  King  Harold  of  England  had  made  him 
self  dear  to  his  people,  and  been  true  to  the  fame  he  had 
won  as  Harold  the  Earl.  From  the  moment  of  his  acces- 
sion, "he  had  showed  himself  pious,  humble,  and  affable,* 
and  omitted  no  occasion  to  show  any  token  of  bounteous 
liberality,  gentleness,  and  courteous  behavior.  —  The 
grievous  customs  also,  and  taxes  which  his  predecessors 
had  raised,  he  either  abolished  or  diminished  ;  the  ordi- 

*  Hoveden. 
19* 


222  HAROLD. 

nary  wages  of  his  servants  and  men-of-war  be  increased, 
and  further  showed  himself  very  well  bent  to  all  virtue 
and  goodness."* 

Extracting  the  pith  from  these  eulogies,  it  is  clear  that, 
as  wise  statesman  no  less  than  good  king,  Harold  sought 
to  strengthen  himself  in  the  three  great  elements  of  regal 
power  ;  —  Conciliation  of  the  Church,  which  had  been 
opposed  to  his  father  ;  the  popular  affection,  on  which 
his  sole  claim  to  the  crown  reposed  ;  and  the  military 
force  of  the  land,  which  had  been  neglected  in  the  reign 
of  his  peaceful  predecessor. 

To  the  young  Atheling  he  accorded  a  respect  not  be- 
fore paid  to  him  ;  and,  while  investing  the  descendant  of 
the  ancient  line  with  princely  state,  and  endowing  him 
with  large  domains,  his  soul,  too  great  for  jealousy, 
sought  to  give  more  substantial  power  to  his  own  most 
legitimate  rival,  by  tender  care  and  noble  counsels,  —  by 
efforts  to  raise  a  character  feeble  by  nature,  and  denation- 
alized by  foreign  rearing.  In  the  same  broad  and  gene- 
rous  policy,  Harold  encouraged  all  the  merchants  from 
other  countries  who  had  settled  in  England,  nor  were 
even  such  Normans  as  had  escaped  the  general  sentence 
of  banishment  on  Godwin's  return,  disturbed  in  their 
possessions.  "In  brief,"  saith  the  Anglo-Norman  chron- 
icler,*}- "no  man  was  more  prudent  in  the  land,  more  val- 
iant in  arms,  in  the  law  more  sagacious,  in  all  probity 

*  Holinshed.  Nearly  all  chroniclers  (even,  with  scarce  an  ex- 
ception, those  most  favoring  the  Normans)  concur  in  the  abilities 
and  merits  of  Harold  as  a  king. 

f  "Vit.  Harold.  Chron.  Ang.  Norm."  ii.  243. 


HAROLD.  223 

more  accomplished:"  and  "ever  active,"  says  more 
mournfully  the  Saxon  writer,  "for  the  good  of  his  coun- 
try, he  spared  himself  no  fatigue  by  land  or  by  sea.7'  * 

From  this  time,  Harold's  private  life  ceased.  Love 
and  its  charms  were  no  more.  The  glow  of  romance  had 
vanished.  He  was  not  one  man  ;  he  was  the  state,  the 
representative,  the  incarnation  of  Saxon  England  :  his 
sway  and  the  Saxon  freedom,  to  live  or  fall  together  ! 

The  soul  really  grand  is  only  tested  in  its  errors.  As 
we  know  the  true  might  of  the  intellect  by  the  rich  re- 
sources and  patient  strength  with  which  it  redeems  a 
failure,'  so  do  we  prove  the  elevation  of  the  soul  by  its 
courageous  return  into  light,  its  instinctive  rebound  into 
higher  air,  after  some  error  that  has  darkened  its  vision 
and  soiled  its  plumes.  A  spirit  less  noble  and  pure  than 
Harold's,  once  entering  on  the  dismal  world  of  enchanted 
superstition,  had  habituated  itself  to  that  nether  atmo- 
sphere ;  once  misled  from  hardy  truth  and  healthful  rea- 
son, it  had  plunged  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  maze 
But,  unlike  his  contemporary,  Macbeth,  the  Man  escaped 
from  the  lures  of  the  fiend.  Not  as  Hecate  in  hell,  but 
as  Dian  in  Heaven,  did  he  confront  the  pale  Goddess  of 
Night.  Before  that  hour  in  which  he  had  deserted  the 
human  judgment  for  the  ghostly  delusion  ;  before  that 
day  in  which  the  brave  heart,  in  its  sudden  desertion, 
had  humbled  his  pride — the  man,  in  his  nature  was  more 
strong  than  the  god.     Now,  purified  by  the  flame  that 

*  Hoveden. 


224  HAROLD. 

had  scorched,  and  more  nerved  from  the  fall  that  had 
stunned, — that  great  soul  rose  sublime  through  the  wrecks 
of  the  Past,  serene  through  the  clouds  of  the  Future, 
concentering  in  its  solitude  the  destinies  of  Mankind,  and 
strong  with  instinctive  Eternity  amidst  all  the  terrors  of 
Time. 

King  Harold  came  from  York,  whither  he  had  gone 
to  cement  the  new  power  of  Morcar,  in  North umbria, 
and  personally  to  confirm  the  allegiance  of  the  Anglo- 
Danes  : — King  Harold  came  from  York,  and  in  the  halls 
of  Westminster  he  found  a  monk  who  awaited  him  with 
the  messages  of  William  the  Norman. 

Bare-footed  and  serge-garbed,  the  Norman  envoy 
strode  to  the  Saxon's  chair  of  state.  His  form  was  worn 
with  mortification  and  fast,  and  his  face  was  hueless  and 
livid,  with  the  perpetual  struggle  between  zeal  and  the 
flesh. 

"  Thus  saith  William,  Count  of  the  Normans,"  began 
Hugues  Maigrot,  the  monk. 

"  With  grief  and  amaze  hath  he  heard  that  you,  O 
Harold,  his  sworn  liege-man,  have,  contrary  to  oath  and 
to  fealty,  assumed  the  crown  that  belongs  to  himself. 
But,  confiding  in  thy  conscience,  and  forgiving  a  mo- 
ment's weakness,  he  summons  thee,  mildly  and  brother- 
like, to  fulfil  thy  vow.  Send  thy  sister,  that  he  may  give 
her  in  marriage  to  one  of  his  quens.  Give  him  up  the 
strong-hold  of  Dover;  march  to  thy  coast  with  thino 
armies  to  aid  him, — thy  liege  lord,  —  and  secure  him  the 
heritage  of  Edward  his  cousin.     And  thou  shalt  reign 


HAROLD.  225 

at  his  right-hand,  his  daughter  thy  bride,  Northumbria 
thy  fief,  and  the  saints  thy  protectors.'7 

The  king's  lip  was  firm,  though  pale,  as  he  answered  : — 
11  My  young  sister,  alas  1  is  no  more  :  seven  nights 
after  I  ascended  the  throne,  she  died  :  her  dust  in  the 
grave  is  all  I  could  send  to  the  arras  of  the  bridegroom. 
I  cannot  wed  the  child  of  thy  count :  the  wife  of  Harold 
sits  beside  him.',  And  he  pointed  to  the  proud  beauty 
of  Aldyth,  enthroned  under  the  drapery  of  gold.  "  For 
the  vow  that  I  took,  I  deny  it  not.  But  from  a  vow  of 
compulsion,  menaced  with  unworthy  captivity,  extorted 
from  my  lips  by  the  very  need  of  the  land  whose  freedom 
had  been  bound  in  my  chains — from  a  vow  so  compelled, 
Church  and  conscience  absolve  me.  If  the  vow  of  a 
maiden  on  whom  to  bestow  but  her  hand,  when  unknown 
to  her  parents,  is  judged  invalid  by  the  Church,  how 
much  more  invalid  the  oath  that  would  bestow  on  a 
stranger  the  fates  of  a  nation,*  against  its  knowledge, 
and  unconsulting  its  laws  !  This  royalty  of  England 
hath  ever  rested  on  the  will  of  the  people,  declared 
through  its  chiefs  in  their  solemn  assembly.  They  alone 
who  could  bestow  it,  have  bestowed  it  on  me  :  — I  have 
no  power  to  resign  it  to  another  —  and  were  I  in  my 
grave,  the  trust  of  tne  crown  would  not  pass  to  the  Nor- 
man, but  return  to  the  Saxon  people." 

"  Is  this,  then,  thy  answer,  unhappy  son  ?  "  said  the 
monk,  with  a  sullen  and  gloomy  aspect. 

"Such  is  my  answer." 

——————  -         i    f— 

*  Malmesbury. 
19*  2o 


226  HAROLD. 

"  Then,  sorrowing  for  thee,  I  utter  the  words  of  Wil- 
liam. '  With  sword  and  with  mail  will  he  come  to  punish 
the  perjurer ;  and  by  the  aid  of  St.  Michael,  archangel 
of  war,  he  will  conquer  his  own.'     Amen!" 

I4  By  sea  and  by  land,  with  sword  and  with  mail,  will 
we  meet  the  invader,"  answered  the  king,  with  a  flashing 
eye.     "Thou  hast  said:  —  so  depart." 

The  monk  turned  and  withdrew. 

"  Let  the  priest's  insolence  chafe  thee  not,  sweet  lord," 
said  Aldyth.  "  For  the  vaw  which  thou  mightest  take 
as  subject,  what  matters  it  now  thou  art  king?" 

Harold  made  no  answer  to  Aldyth,  but  turned  to  his 
chamberlain,  who  stood  behind  his  throne-chair. 

"Are  my  brothers  without  ? " 

"  They  are  :  and  my  lord  the  king's  chosen  council." 

"Admit  them  :  pardon,  Aldyth ;  affairs  fit  only  for 
men  claim  me  now." 

The  Lady  of  England  took  the  hint  and  rose. 

"But  the  even-mete  will  summon  thee  soon,"  said  she. 

Harold,  who  had  already  descended  from  his  chair  of 
state,  and  was  bending  over  a  casket  of  papers  -on  the 
table,  replied, — 

"  There  is  food  here  till  the  morrow  ;  wait  me  not." 

Aldyth  sighed,  and  withdrew  at  the  one  door,  while 
the  thegns  most  in  Harold's  confidence,  entered  at  the 
other.  But,  once  surrounded  by  her  maidens,  Aldyth 
forgot  all,  save  that  she  was  again  a  queen, — forgot  all, 
even  to  the  earlier  and  less  gorgeous  diadem  which  her 


HAROLD.  227 

lord's  band  had  shattered  on  the  brows  of  the  son  of 
Pendragon. 

Leofwine,  still  gay  and  blithe-hearted,  entered  first : 
Gurth  followed,  then  Haco,  then  some  half-score  of  the 
greater  thegns. 

They  seated  themselves  at  the  table,  and  Gurth  spoke 
first  — 

"Tostig  has  been  with  Count  William." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Harold. 

u  It  is  rumored  that  he  has  passed  to  our  uucle  Sweyn." 

"I  foresaw  it,"  said  the  king. 

"And  that  Sweyn  will  aid  him  to  reconquer  England 
for  the  Dane." 

"  My  bode  reached  Sweyn,  with  letters  from  Githa, 
before  Tostig  ;  my  bode  has  returned  this  day.  Sweyn 
has  dismissed  Tostig  :  Sweyn  will  send  fifty  ships,  armed 
with  picked  men,  to  the  aid  of  England." 

"Brother,"  cried  Leofwine,  admiringly,  "thou  pro- 
videst  against  danger  ere  we  but  surmise  it." 

"Tostig,"  continued  the  king,  unheeding  the  compli- 
ment, "  will  be  the  first  assailant :  him  we  must  meet. 
His  fast  friend  is  Malcolm  of  Scotland :  him  we  must 
secure.  Go  thou,  Leofwine,  with  these  letters  to  Mal- 
colm. —The  next  fear  is  from  the  Welch.  Go  thou,  Ed- 
win of  Mercia,  to  the  princes  of  Wales.  On  thy  way, 
strengthen  the  forts  and  deepen  the  dykes  of  the  marches.- 
These  tablets  hold  thy  instructions.  The  Norman,  as 
doubtless  ye  know,  my  thegns,  hath  sent  to  demand  our 
crown,  and  hath  announced  the  coming  of  his  war.    With 


228  HAROLD. 

the  dawn  I  depart  to  our  port  at  Sandwich,*  to  muster 
our  fleets.     Thou  with  me,  Gurth." 

"  These  preparations  need  much  treasure,"  said  an  old 
thegn,  "  and  thou  hast  lessened  the  taxes  at  the  hour  of 
need." 

"  Not  yet  is  it  the  hour  of  need.  When  it  comes,  our 
people  will  the  more  readily  meet  it  with  their  gold  as 
with  their  iron.  There  was  great  wealth  in  the  house  of 
Godwin  ;  that  wealth  mans  the  ships  of  England.  What 
hast  thou  there,  Haco  ?  " 

"  Thy  new-issued  coin  :  it  hath  on  its  reverse  the  word 
1  Peace.'  "  f 

Who  ever  saw  one  of  those  coins  of  the  Last  Saxon 
King,  the  bold  simple  head  on  the  one  side,  that  single 
word  "Peace"  on  the  other,  and  did  not  feel  awed  and 
touched  ?  What  pathos  in  that  word  compared  with  the 
fate  which  it  failed  to  propitiate  ! 

"Peace,"  said  Harold  :  "to  all  that  doth  not  render 
peace,  slavery.  Yea,  may  I  live  to  leave  peace  to  our 
children  !  Now,  peace  only  rests  on  our  preparation  for 
war.  You,  Morcar,  will  return  with  all  speed  to  York, 
and  look  well  to  the  mouth  of  the  Humber." 

Then,  turning  to  each  of  the  thegns  successively,  he 
gare  to  each  his  post  and  his  duty  ;  and  that  done,  con- 
verse grew  more  general.  The  many  things  needful  that 
had  been  long  rotting  in  neglect  under  the  Monk-king, 
and   now  sprung  up,  craving  instant  reform,    occupied 


*  Supposed  to  be  our  first  port  for  ship-building.  —  Fosbrooke, 
p.  320. 
fPax. 


HAROLD.  229 

them  long  and  anxiously.  But  cheered  and  inspirited  by 
the  vigor  and  foresight  of  Harold,  whose  earlier  slow- 
ness of  character  seemed  winged  by  the  occasion  into 
rapid  decision  (as  is  not  uncommon  with  the  English- 
man), all  difficulties  seemed  light,  and  hope  and  courage 
were  in  every  breast. 


CHAPTER  Till. 

Back  went  Hugues  Maigrot,  the  Monk,  to  William, 
and  told  the  reply  of  Harold  to  the  duke,  in  the  presence 
of  Lanfranc.  William  himself  heard  it  in  gloomy  silence, 
for  Fitzosborne  as  yet  had  been  wholly  unsuccessful  in 
stirring  up  the  Norman  barons  to  an  expedition  so 
hazardous,  in  a  cause  so  doubtful ;  and  though  prepared 
for  the  defiance  of  Harold,  the  duke  was  not  prepared 
with  the  means  to  enforce  his  threats  and  make  good  his 
claim. 

So  great  was  his  abstraction,  that  he  suffered  the  Lom- 
bard to  dismiss  the  monk  without  a  word  spoken  by  him  ; 
and  he  was  first  startled  from  his  reverie  by  Lanfranc's 
pale  hand  on  his  vast  shoulder,  and  Lanfranc's  low  voice 
in  his  dreamy  ear, — 

"  Up  !  hero  of  Europe  ;  for  thy  cause  is  won  !  Up  ! 
and  write  with  thy  bold  characters,  bold  as  if  graved  with 
the  point  of  the  sword,  my  credentials  to  Rome.  Let  me 
depart  ere  the  sun  sets  :  and  as  I  go,  look  on  the  sinking 

IL  —  20  u 


230  HAROLD. 

orb,  and  behold  the  sun  of  the  Saxon  that  sets  evermore 
on  England  I " 

Then  briefly,  that  ablest  statesman  of  the  age,  (and 
forgive  him,  despite  our  modern  lights,  we  must ;  for, 
sincere  son  of  the  Church,  he  regarded  the  violated  oath 
of  Harold  as  entailing  the  legitimate  forfeiture  of  his 
realm,  and,  ignorant  of  true  political  freedom,  looked 
upon  Church  and  Learning  as  the  only  civilizers  of  men,) 
then,  briefly,  Lanfranc  detailed  to  the  listening  Norman 
the  outline  of  the  arguments  by  which  he  intended  to 
move  the  Pontifical  court  to  the  N"orman  side ;  and  en- 
larged upon  the  vast  accession  throughout  all  Europe 
which  the  solemn  sanction  of  the  Church  would  bring  to 
his  strength.  William's  re-awaking  and  ready  intellect 
soon  seized  upon  the  importance  of  the  object  pressed 
upon  him.  He  interrupted  the  Lombard,  drew  pen  and 
parchment  towards  him,  and  wrote  rapidly.  Horses 
were  harnessed,  horsemen  equipped  in  haste,  and  with 
no  unfitting  retinue  Lanfranc  departed  on  the  mission, 
the  most  important  in  its  consequences  that  ever  passed 
from  potentate  to  pontiff.*  Rebraced  to  its  purpose  by 
Lanfranc's  cheering  assurances,  the  resolute,  indomitable 
soul  of  William  now  applied  itself,  night  and  day,  to  the 
difficult  task   of  rousing    his  haughty  vavasours.     Yet 


*  Some  of  the  Norman  chroniclers  state  that  Robert,  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  who  had  been  expelled  from  England  at  Godwin's 
return,  was  Lanfranc's  companion  in  this  mission  ;  but  more  trust- 
worthy authorities  assure  us  that  Robert  had  been  dead  some  years 
before,  not  long  surviving  his  return  into  Normandy, 


HAROLD.  231 

weeks  passed  before  he  could  even  meet  a  select  council 
composed  of  his  own  kinsmen  and  most  trusted  lords. 
These,  however,  privately  won  over,  promised  to  serve 
him  "with  body  and  goods."  But  one  and  all  they  told 
him,  he  must  gain  the  consent  of  the  whole  principality 
in  a  general  council.  That  council  was  convened  :  thither 
came  not  only  lords  and  knights,  but  merchants  and 
traders,  —  all  the  rising  middle  class  of  a  thriving  state. 

The  duke  bared  his  wrongs,  his  claims,  and  his  schemes. 
The  assembly  would  not  or  did  not  discuss  the  matter  in 
his  presence  ;  they  would  not  be  awed  by  its  influence  ; 
and  William  retired  from  the  hall.  Yarious  were  the 
opinions,  stormy  the  debate  ;  and  so  great  the  disorder 
grew,  that  Fitzosborne,  rising  in  the  midst,  exclaimed  — 

"Why  this  dispute  ?  —  why  this  unduteous  discord  ? 
Is  not  William  your  lord  ?  Hath  he  not  need  of  you  ? 
Fail  him  now — and,  you  know  him  well — by  G —  he  will 
remember  it !  Aid  him — and  you  know  him  well — large 
are  his  rewards  to  service  and  love  ! " 

Up  rose  at  once  baron  and  merchant ;  and  when  at 
last  their  spokesman  was  chosen,  that  spokesman  said, — 

"  William  is  our  lord  ;  is  it  not  enough  to  pay  to  our 
lord  his  dues  ?  No  aid  do  we  owe  beyond  the  seas  ! 
Sore  harassed  and  taxed  are  we  already  by  his  wars  ! 
Let  him  fail  in  this  strange  and  unparalleled  hazard,  and 
our  land  is  undone  !  " 

Loud  applause  followed  this  speech  ;  the  majority  of 
the  council  were  against  the  duke. 

11  Then,"  said  Fitzosborne  craftily,  "  I,  who  know  the 


232  HAROLD. 

means  of  each  man  present,  will,  with  your  leave,  repre- 
sent your  necessities  to  your  count,  and  make  such  mo- 
dest offer  of  assistance  as  may  please  ye,  yet  not  chafe 
your  liege." 

Into  the  trap  of  this  proposal  the  opponents  fell ;  and 
Fitzosborne,  at  the  head  of  the  body,  returned  to  Wil- 
liam. 

The  Lord  of  Breteuil  approached  the  dais,  on  which 
William  sate  alone,  his  great  sword  in  his  hand,  and 
thus  spoke, — 

"  My  liege,  I  may  well  say  that  never  prince  had  peo- 
ple more  leal  than  yours,  nor  that  have  more  proved  their 
faith  and  love  by  the  burdens  they  have  borne  and  the 
moneys  they  have  granted." 

An  universal  murmur  of  applause  followed  these  words. 
"Good!  good!"  almost  shouted  the  merchants  espe- 
cially. William's  brows  met,  and  he  looked  very  terrible. 
The  Lord  of  Breteuil  gracefully  waved  his  hand,  and 
resumed, — 

"Yea,  my  liege,  much  have  they  borne  for  your  glory 
and  need;   much  more  will  they  bear." 

The  faces  of  the  audience  fell. 

"  Their  service  does  not  compel  them  to  aid  you  be- 
yond the  seas." 

The  faces  of  the  audience  brightened. 

"  But  now  they  will  aid  you,  in  the  land  of  the  Saxon 
as  in  that  of  the  Frank." 

"  How  ? "  cried  a  stray  voice  or  two 


HAROLD.  233 

"  Hush,  O  gentilz  amys.  Forward,  then,  O  my  liege, 
and  spare  them  in  nought.  He  who  has  hitherto  sup- 
plied you  with  two  good  mounted  soldiers,  will  now  grant 
you  four  ;  and  he  who " 

"  No,  no,  no  ! "  roared  two-thirds  of  the  assembly ; 
"  we  charged  you  with  no  such  answer  ;  we  said  not  that, 
nor  that  shall  it  be  !  " 

Out  stepped  a  baron. 

"  Within  this  country,  to  defend  it,  we  will  serve  our 
count ;  but  to  aid  him  to  conquer  another  man's  country, 
no!" 

Out  stepped  a  knight. 

"  If  once  we  rendered  this  double  service,  beyond  seas 
as  at  home,  it  would  be  held  a  right  and  a  custom  here- 
after ;  and  we  should  be  as  mercenary  soldiers,  not  free- 
born  Normans. " 

Out  stepped  a  merchant. 

"And  we  and  our  children  would  be  burdened  for 
ever  to  feed  one  man's  ambition,  whenever  he  saw  a  king 
to  dethrone,  or  a  realm  to  seize." 

And  then  cried  a  general  chorus, —  \ 

"It  shall  not  be  — it  shall  not!" 

The  assembly  broke  at  once  into  knots  of  tens,  twenties, 
thirties,  gesticulating  and  speaking  aloud,  like  freemen 
in  anger.  And  ere  William,  with  all  his  prompt  dis 
simulation,  could  do  more  than  smother  his  rage,  and  sit 
griping  his  sword-hilt,  and  setting  his  teeth,  the  assembly 
dispersed. 
20* 


234  HAROLD. 

Such  were  the  free  souls  of  the  Normans  under  the 
greatest  of  their  chiefs  ;  and  had  those  souls  been  less 
free,  England  had  not  been  enslaved  in  one  age,  to  be- 
come free  again,  God  grant,  to  the  end  of  time  ! 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Through  the  blue  skies  over  England  there  rushed  the 
bright  stranger  —  a  meteor,  a  comet,  a  fiery  star  !  "such 
as  no  man  before  ever  saw ; "  it  appeared  on  the  8th, 
before  the  kalends  of  May ;  seven  nights  did  it  shine,* 
and  the  faces  of  sleepless  men  were  pale  under  the  angry 
glare. 

The  river  of  Thames  rushed  blood-red  in  the  beam, 
the  winds  at  play  on  the  broad  waves  of  the  Humber, 
broke  the  surge  of  the  billows  into  sparkles  of  fire.  With 
three  streamers,  sharp  and  long  as  the  sting  of  a  dragon, 
the  foreboder  of  wrath  rushed  through  the  hosts  of  the 
stars.  On  every  ruinous  fort,  by  sea-coast  and  march, 
the  warder  crossed  his  breast  to  behold  it ;  on  hill  and  in 
thoroughfare,  crowds  nightly  assembled  to  gaze  on  the 
terrible  star.  Muttering  hymns,  monks  huddled  together 
round  the  altars,  as  if  to  exorcise  the  land  of  a  demon. 
The  grave-stone  of  the  Saxon  father-chief  was  lit  up,  as 
with  the  coil  of  the   lightning ;    and  the  Morthwyrtha 

*  Saxon  Chronicle. 


HAROLD.  235 

looked  from  the  mound,  and  saw  in  her  visions  of  awe 
the  Valkyrs  in  the  train  of  the  fiery  star. 

On  the  roof  of  his  palace  stood  Harold  the  King,  and 
with  folded  arms  he  looked  on  the  Rider  of  Night.  And 
up  the  stairs  of  the  turret  came  the  soft  steps  of  Haco, 
and  stealing  near  to  the  king,  he  said,  — 

"  Arm  in  haste,  for  the  bodes  have  come  breathless  to 
tell  thee  that  Tostig,  thy  brother,  with  pirate  and  war- 
chip,  is  wasting  thy  shores  and  slaughtering  thy  people  ! " 


CHAPTER  X. 

Tostig,  with  the  ships  he  had  gained  both  from  Nor- 
man and  Norwegian,  recruited  by  Flemish  adventurers, 
fled  fast  from  the  banners  of  Harold.  After  plundering 
the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  the  Hampshire  coasts,  he  sailed 
up  the  Humber,  where  his  vain  heart  had  counted  on 
friends  yet  left  him  in  his  ancient  earldom  ;  but  Harold's 
soul  of  vigor  was  everywhere.  Morcar,  prepared  by  the 
king's  bodes,  encountered  and  chased  the  traitor,  and, 
deserted  by  most  of  his  ships,  with  but  twelve  small  craft 
Tostig  gained  the  shores  of  Scotland.  There,  again 
forestalled  by  the  Saxon  king,  he  failed  in  succor  from 
Malcolm,  and  retreating  to  the  Orkneys,  waited  the 
fleets  of  Hardrada. 

And  now  Harold,  thus  at  freedom  for  defence  against 
a  foe  more  formidable  and  less  unnatural,  hastened  to 


236  HAROLD. 

make  secure  both  the  sea  and  the  coast  against  William 
the  Norman.  "So  great  a  ship  force,  so  great  aland 
force,  no  king  in  the  land  had  before.'1  All  the  summer, 
his  fleets  swept  the  channel ;  his  forces  "lay  everywhere 
by  the  sea." 

But,  alas  !  now  came  the  time  when  the  improvident 
waste  of  Edward  began  to  be  felt.  Provisions  and  pay 
for  the  armaments  failed.*  On  the  defective  resources 
at  Harold's  disposal,  no  modern  historian  hath  sufficiently 
dwelt.  The  last  Saxon  king,  the  chosen  of  the  people, 
had  not  these  levies,  and  could  impose  not  those  burdens, 
which  made  his  successors  mighty  in  war  ;  and  men  began 
now  to  think  that,  after  all,  there  was  no  fear  of  this 
Norman  invasion.  The  summer  was  gone ;  the  autumn 
was  come  ;  was  it  likely  that  William  would  dare  to  trust 
himself  in  an  enemy's  country  as  the  winter  drew  near  ? 
The  Saxons — unlike  their  fiercer  kindred  of  Scandinavia, 
had  no  pleasure  in  war ;  — they  fought  well  in  front  of  a 
foe,  but  they  loathed  the  tedious  preparations  and  costly 
sacrifices  which  prudence  demanded  for  self-defence. 
They  now  revolted  from  a  strain  upon  their  energies,  of 
the  necessity  of  which  they  were  not  convinced  !  Joyous 
at  the  temporary  defeat  of  Tostig,  men  said,  "  Marry,  a 
joke  indeed,  that  the  Norman  will  put  his  shaven  head 
into  the  hornet's  nest !     Let  him  come,  if  he  dare  ! " 

Still,  with  desperate  effort,  and  at  much  risk  of  popu- 

*  Saxon  Chronicle.  — When  it  was  the  nativity  of  St.  Mary,  then 
were  the  men's  provisions  gone,  and  no  man  could  any  longer  keep 
them  there." 


HAROLD.  231 

larity,  Harold  held  together  a  force  sufficient  to  repel 
any  single  invader.  From  the  time  of  his  accession,  his 
sleepless  vigilance  had  kept  watch  on  the  Norman,  and 
his  spies  brought  him  news  of  all  that  passed. 

And  now  what  had  passed  in  the  councils  of  William? 
The  abrupt  disappointment  which  the  Grand  Assembly 
had  occasioned  him  did  not  last  very  long.  Made  aware 
that  he  could  not  trust  to  the  spirit  of  an  assembly, 
William  now  artfully  summoned  merchant,  and  knight, 
and  baron,  one  by  one.  Submitted  to  the  eloquence, 
the  promises,  the  craft,  of  that  master  intellect,  and  to 
the  awe  of  that  imposing  presence  ;  unassisted  by  the 
courage  which  inferiors  take  from  numbers,  one  by  one 
yielded  to  the  will  of  the  count,  and  subscribed  his  quota 
for  moneys,  for  ships,  and  for  men.  And  while  this  went 
on,  Lanfranc  was  at  work  in  the  Yatican.  At  that  time 
the  Archdeacon  of  the  Roman  Church  was  the  famous 
Hildebrand.  This  extraordinary  man,  fit  fellow-spirit  to 
Lanfranc,  nursed  one  darling  project,  the  success  of  which 
indeed  founded  the  true  temporal  power  of  the  Roman 
pontiffs.  It  was  no  less  than  that  of  converting  the 
mere  religious  ascendency  of  the  Holy  See  into  the 
actual  sovereignty  over  the  states  of  Christendom.  The 
most  immediate  agents  of  this  gigantic  scheme  were  the 
Normans,  who  had  conquered  Naples  by  the  arm  of  the 
adventurer  Robert  Guiscard,  and  under  the  gonfanon  of 
St.  Peter.  Most  of  the  new  Norman  countships  and 
dukedoms  thus  created  in  Italy  had  declared  themselves 
Qefs  of  the  Church ;    and  the  successor  of  the  apostle 


238  HAROLD. 

might  well  hope,  by  aid  of  the  Norman  priest-knights, 
to  extend  his  sovereignty  over  Italy,  and  thence  dictate 
to  the  kings  beyond  the  Alps. 

The  aid  of  Hildebrand  in  behalf  of  William's  claims 
was  obtained  at  once  by  Lanfranc.  The  profound  Arch- 
deacon of  Rome  saw  at  a  glance  the  immense  power  that 
would  accrue  to  the  Church  by  the  mere  act  of  arrogating 
to  itself  the  disposition  of  crowns,  subjecting  rival  princes 
to  abide  by  its  decision,  and  fixing  the  men  of  its.  choice 
on  the  thrones  of  the  North.  Despite  all  its  slavish 
superstition,  the  Saxon  Church  was  obnoxious  to  Rome. 
Even  the  pious  Edward  had  offended,  by  withholding 
the  old  levy  of  Peter  Pence ;  and  simony,  a  crime 
peculiarly  reprobated  by  the  pontiff,  was  notorious  in 
England.  Therefore  there  was  much  to  aid  Hildebrand 
in  the  Assembly  of  the  Cardinals,  when  he  brought  be- 
fore them  the  oath  of  Harold,  the  violation  of  the  sacred 
relics,  and  demanded  that  the  pious  Normans,  true  friends 
to  the  Roman  Church,  should  be  permitted  to  Chris- 
tianize the  barbarous  Saxons,*  and  William  be  nominated 
as  heir  to  a  throne  promised  to  him  by  Edward,  and  for- 

*  It  is  curious  to  notice  how  England  was  represented  as  a  coun- 
try almost  heathen;  its  conquest  was  regarded  quite  as  a  pious, 
benevolent  act  of  charity  —  a  sort  of  mission  for  converting  the 
savages.  And  all  this  while  England  was  under  the  most  slavish 
ecclesiastical  domination,  and  the  priesthood  possessed  a  third  of 
its  land  !  But  the  heart  of  England  never  forgave  that  league  of 
the  Pope  with  the  Conqueror;  and  the  seeds  of  the  Reformed  Re- 
ligion were  trampled  deep  into  the  Saxon  soil  by  the  feet  of  the  in- 
fading  Norman. 


HAROLD.  239 

feited  by  the  perjury  of  Harold.  Nevertheless,  to  the 
honor  of  that  assembly,  and  of  man,  there  was  a  holy 
opposition  to  this  wholesale  barter  of  human  rights, — 
this  sanction  of  an  armed  onslaught  on  a  Christian 
people.  "It  is  infamous/'  said  the  good,  "to  authorize 
homicide."  But  Hildebrand  was  all-powerful,  and  pre- 
vailed. 

William  was  at  high-feast  with  his  barons  when  Lan- 
franc  dismounted  at  his  gates  and  entered  his  hall. 

"  Hail  to  thee,  King  of  England  !  "  he  said.  "  I  bring 
the  bull  that  excommunicates  Harold  and  his  adherents  ; 
I  bring  to  thee  the  gift  of  the  Koman  Church,  the  land 
and  royalty  of  England.  I  bring  to  thee  the  gonfanon 
hallowed  by  the  heir  of  the  apostle,  and  the  very  ring 
that  contains  the  precious  relic  of  the  apostle  himself! 
Now  who  will  shrink  from  thy  side  ?  Publish  thy  ban, 
not  in  Normandy  alone,  but  in  every  region  and  realm 
where  the  Church  is  honored.  This  is  the  first  war  of 
the  Cross  \" 

Then  indeed  was  it  seen  —  that  might  of  the  Church  ! 
Soon  as  were  made  known  the  sanction  and  gifts  of  the 
Pope,  all  the  continent  stirred,  as  to  the  blast  of  the 
trump  in  the  Crusade,  of  which  that  war  was  the  herald. 
From  Maine  and  from  Anjou,  from  Poitou  and  Bretagne, 
from  France  and  from  Flanders,  from  Aquitaine  and 
Burgundy,  flashed  the  spear,  galloped  the  steed.  The 
robber-chiefs  from  the  castles  now  grey  on  the  Rhine  ; 
the  hunters  and  bandits  from  the  roots  of  the  Alps ; 
baron  and  knight,  varlet  and  vagrant,  —  all  came  to  tV^ 


240  HAROLfc, 

flag  of  the  Church,  —  to  the  pillage  of  England.  For 
side  by  side  with  the  Pope's  holy  bull  was  the  martial 
ban :  —  "  Good  pay  and  broad  lands  to  every  one  who 
will  serve  Count  William  with  spear,  and  with  sword, 
and  with  cross-bow."  And  the  duke  said  to  Fitzosborne, 
as  he  parcelled  out  the  fair  fields  of  England  into  Nor- 
man fiefs, — 

"  Harold  hath  not  the  strength  of  mind  to  promise  the 
least  of  those  things  that  belong  to  me.  But  I  have  the 
right  to  promise  that  which  is  mine,  and  also  that  which 
belongs  to  him.  He  must  be  the  victor  who  can  give 
away  both  his  own  and  what  belongs  to  his  foe."  * 

All  on  the  continent  of  Europe  regarded  England's 
king  as  accursed — William's  enterprise  as  holy;  and 
mothers  who  had  turned  pale  when  their  sons  went  forth 
to  the  boar-chase,  sent  their  darlings  to  enter  their  names, 
for  the  weal  of  their  souls,  in  the  swollen  muster-roll  of 
William  the  Norman.  Every  port  now  in  Neustria  wras 
busy  with  terrible  life  ;  in  every  wood  was  heard  the  axe 
felling  logs  for  the  ships  ;  from  every  anvil  flew  the  sparks 
from  the  hammer,  as  iron  took  shape  into  helmet  and 
sword.  All  things  seemed  to  favor  the  Church's  chosen 
one.  Conan,  Count  of  Bretagne,  sent  to  claim  the  duchy 
of  Normandy  as  legitimate  heir.  A  few  days  afterwards, 
Conan  died,  poisoned  (as  had  died  his  father  before  him), 
by  the  mouth  of  his  horn  and  the  web  of  his  gloves.    And 

*  William  of  Poitiers. — The  naive  sagacity  of  this  bandit  argu- 
ment, and  the  Norman's  contempt  for  Harold's  deficiency  in 
"strength  of  mind,"  are  exquisite  illustrations  of  character. 


HAROLD.  241 

the  new  Count  of  Bretagne  sent  his  sons  to  take  part 
against  Harold. 

All  the  armament  mustered  at  the  roadstead  of  St. 
Valery,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Somme.  But  the  winds 
vere  long  hostile,  and  the  rains  fell  in  torrents. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

And  now,  while  war  thus  hungered  for  England  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Somme,  the  last  and  most  renowned  of  the 
sea-kings,  Harold  Hardrada,  entered  his  galley,  the  tall- 
est and  strongest  of  a  fleet  of  three  hundred  sail,  that 
peopled  the  seas  round  Solundir.  And  a  man  named 
Gyrdir,  on  board  the  king's  ship,  dreamed  a  dream.* 
He  saw 'a  great  witch-wife  standing  on  an  isle  of  the  Su- 
len,  with  a  fork  in  one  hand,  and  a  trough  in  the  other,  f 
He  saw  her  pass  over  the  whole  fleet ;  —  by  each  of  the 
three  hundred  ships  he  saw  her ;  and  a  fowl  sat  on  the 
stern  of  each  ship,  and  that  fowl  was  a  raven ;  and  he 
heard  the  witch-wife  sing  this  song:  — 

"From  the  East  I  allure  him, 
At  the  West  I  secure  him; 
In  the  feast  I  foresee 
Rare  the  relics  for  me; 

Red  the  drink,  white  the  bones. 

*  Snorro  Sturleson. 

•J-  Does  any  Scandinavian  scholar  know  why  the  trough  was  so 
associated  with  the  images  of  Scandinavian  witchcraft  ?     A  witch 

II.— 21  2p 


242  HAROLD. 

"  The  ravens  sit  greeding, 
And  watching,  and  heeding. 
Thoro'  wind,   over  water, 
Comes  scent  of  the  slaughter, 
And  ravens  sit  greeding 
Their  share  of  the  bones. 

"Thoro*  wind,  thoro'  weather, 
We're  sailing  together; 
I  sail  with  the  ravens; 
I  watch  with  the  ravens; 
I  snatch  from  the  ravens 
My  share  of  the  bones." 

There  was  also  a  man  called  Thord,*  in  a  ship  that 
lay  near  the  king's  ;  and  he  too  dreamed  a  dream.  He 
saw  the  fleet  nearing  land,  and  that  land  was  England. 
And  on  the  land  was  a  battle  array  two-fold,  and  many 
banners  were  flapping  on  both  sides.  And  before  the 
army  of  the  land-folk,  was  riding  a  huge  witch-wife  upon 
a  wolf;  the  wolf  had  a  man's  carcase  in  his  mcfuth,  and 
the  blood  was  dripping  and  dropping  from  his  jaws  ;  and 
when  the  wolf  had  eaten  up  that  carcase,  the  witch-wife 
threw  another  into  his  jaws  ;  and  so,  one  after  another ; 
and  the  wolf  cranched  and  swallowed  them  all.  And  the 
witch-wife   sang  this  song  :  — 

"  The  green  waving  fields 
Are  hidden  behind 
The  flash  of  the  shields, 

And  the  rush  of  the  banners 
That  toss  in  the  wind. 

was  known,  when  seen  behind,  by  a  kind  of  trough-like  shape  ; 
there  must  be  some  symbol,  of  very  ancient  mythology,  in  this  su- 
perstition ! 

*  Snorro  Sturleson. 


HAROLD.  243 

u  But  Skade's  eagle  eyes 

Pierce  the  wall  of  the  steel, 
And  behold  from  the  skies 

What  the  earth  would  conceal; 
O'er  the  rush  of  the  banners 

She  poises  her  wing, 
And  marks  with  a  shadow 

The  brow  of  the  king. 

"And,  in  bode  of  his  doom, 
Jaw  of  Wolf,  be  the  tomb 
Of  the  bones  and  the  flesh, 
Gore-bedabbled  and  fresh, 
That  cranch  and  that  drip 
Under  fang  and  from  lip, 
As  1  ride  in  the  van 
Of  the  feasters  on  man, 
With  the  king. 

"Grim  wolf,  sate  thy  maw, 
Full  enow  shalt  there  be, 
Hairy  jaw,  hungry  maw, 
Both  for  ye  and  for  me! 
v 
"  Meaner  food  be  the  feast 
Of  the  fowl  and  the  beast; 
But  the  witch,  for  her  share, 
Takes  the  best  of  the  fare: 
And  the  witch  shall  be  fed 
With  the  king  of  the  dead, 
When  she  rides  in  the  van, 
Of  the  slayers  of  man, 
With  the  king." 

And  King  Harold  dreamed  a  dream.    And  he  saw  b& 
fore  him  his  brother  St.  Olave.     And  the  dead,  to  the 
Scald-King,  sang  this  song  :  — 


44i  HAROLD 

"Bold  as  thou  in  the  fight, 
Blithe  as  thou  in  the  hall, 
Shone  the  noon  of  my  might, 
Ere  the  night  of  my  fall! 

"How  humble  is  death, 

And  how  haughty  is  life, 
And  how  fleeting  the  breath 
Between  slumber  and  strife ! 

"All  the  earth  is  too  narrow, 
0  life,  for  thy  tread! 
Two  strides  o'er  the  barrow 
Can  measure  the  dead. 

"Yet  mighty  that  space  is 
Which  seemeth  so  small; 
The  realm  of  all  races, 
With  room  for  them  all ! " 

But  Harold  Hardrada  scorned  witch-wife  and  dream  ; 
and  his  fleets  sailed  on.  Tostig  joined  him  off  the  Ork- 
ney Isles,  and  this  great  armament  soon  came  in  sight 
of  the  shores  of  England.  They  landed  at  Cleveland,* 
and  at  the  dread  of  the  terrible  Norsemen,  the  coasters 
fled  or  submitted.  With  booty  and  plunder  they  sailed 
on  to  Scarborough,  but  there  the  townsfolk  were  brave, 
and  the  walls  were  strong.  The  Norsemen  ascended  a 
hill  above  the  town,  lit  a  huge  pile  of  wood,  and  tossed 
the  burning  piles  down  on  the  roofs.  House  after  house 
caught  the  flame,  and  through  the  glare  and  the  Jrash 
rushed  the  men  of  Hardrada.  Great  was  the  slaughter, 
and  ample  the  plunder ;  and  the  town,  awed  and  depeo- 
p**d,  submitted  to  flame  and  to  sword. 

*Snorro  Sturleson. 


HAROLD.  245 

Then  the  fleet  sailed  up  the  Humber  and  Ouse,  anJ 
landed  at  Richall,  not  far  from  York ;  but  Morcar,  the 
earl  of  Northumbria,  came  out  with  all  his  forces,  —  all 
the  stout  men  and  tall  of  the  great  race  of  the  Anglo- 
Dane. 

Then  Hardrada  advanced  his  flag,  called  Land-Eyda, 
the  4<  Ravager  of  the  World,"*  and,  chaunting  a  war- 
stave, —  led  his  men  to  the  onslaught. 

The  battle  was  fierce,  but  short.  The  English  troops 
were  defeated ;  they  fled  into  York ;  and  the  Ravager 
of  the  World  was  borne  in  triumph  to  the  gates  of  the 
town.  An  exiled  chief,  however  tyrannous  and  hateful, 
hath  ever  some  friends  among  the  desperate  and  lawless  ; 
and  success  ever  finds  allies  among  the  weak  and  the 
craven,  —  so  many  Northumbrians  now  came  to  the  side 
of  Tostig.  Dissension  and  mutiny  broke  out  amidst  the 
garrison  within  ;  Morcar,  unable  to  control  the  towns- 
folk, was  driven  "orth  with  those  still  true  to  their  country 
and  king,  and  York  agreed  to  open  its  gates  to  the  con- 
quering invader. 

At  the  news  of  this  foe  on  the  north  side  of  the  land, 
King  Harold  was  compelled  to  withdraw  all  the  forces 
at  watch  in  the  south  against  the  tardy  invasion  of  Wil- 
liam. It  was  the  middle  of  September ;  eight  months 
had  elapsed  since  the  Norman  had  launched  forth  his 

*  So  Thierry  translates  the  word:  others,  the  Land-ravager.  In 
Danish,  the  word  is  Land-ode;  in  Icelandic,  Land-eydo.— Note  to 
Thierry's  "Hist  of  the  Conq.  of  England,"  book  iii.  vol.  vi.  p.  160 
(of  Hazlitt's  translation). 

21* 


246  HAROLD. 

vaunting  threat.  Would  he  now  dare  to  come  ? — Come 
or  not,  that  foe  was  afar,  and  this  was  in  the  heart  of  the 
country ! 

Now,  York  having  thus  capitulated,  all  the  land  round 
was  humbled  and  awed  ;  and  Hardrada  and  Tostig  were 
blithe  and  gay ;  and  many  days,  thought  they,  must  pass 
ere  Harold  the  king  can  come  from  the  south  to  the 
north. 

The  camp  of  the  Norsemen  was  at  Stanford  Bridge, 
and  that  day  it  was  settled  that  they  should  formally 
enter  York.  Their  ships  lay  in  the  river  beyond  ;  a  large 
portion  of  the  armament  was  with  the  ships.  The  day 
was  warm,  and  the  men  with  Hardrada  had  laid  aside 
their  heavy  mail  and  were  "  making  merry,"  talking  of 
the  plunder  of  York,  jeering  at  Saxon  valor,  and  gloat- 
ing over  thoughts  of  the  Saxon  maids,  whom  Saxon  men 
had  failed  to  protect, — when  suddenly  between  them  and 
the  town  rose  and  rolled  a  great  cloud  of  dust.  High  it 
rose,  and  fast  it  rolled,  and  from  the  heart  of  the  cloud 
shone  the  spear  and  the  shield. 

"  What  army  comes  yonder  ?  "  said  Harold  Hardrada. 

"Surely,"  answered  Tostig,  "it  comes  from  the  town 
that  we  are  to  enter  as  conquerors,  and  can  be  but  the 
friendly  Northumbrians  who  have  deserted  Morcar  for 
me." 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  force,  and  the  shine  of 
the  arms  was  like  the  glancing  of  ice. 

"Advance  the  World-Ravager  !"  cried  Harold  Hard 
rada;  "draw  up,  and  to  arms!" 


HAROLD.  247 

Then,  picking  out  three  of  his  briskest  youths,  he 
despatched  them  to  the  force  on  the  river  with  orders  to 
come  up  quick  to  the  aid.  For  already,  through  the 
cloud  and  amidst  the  spears,  was  seen  the  flag  of  the 
English  king.  On  the  previous  night  King  Harold  had 
entered  York,  unknown  to  the  invaders  —  appeased  the 
mutiny — cheered  the  townsfolks ;  and  now  came  like  the 
thunderbolt  borne  by  the  winds,  to  clear  the  air  of  Eng- 
land from  the  clouds  of  the  North. 

Both  armaments  drew  up  in  haste,  and  Hardrada 
formed  his  array  in  the  form  of  a  circle,  —  the  line  long 
but  not  deep,  the  wings  curving  round  till  they  met,* 
shield  to  shield.  Those  who  stood  in  the  first  rank  set 
their  spear-shafts  on  the  ground,  the  points  level  with 
the  breast  of  a  horseman  ;  those  in  the  second,  with 
spears  yet  lower,  level  with  the  breast  of  a  horse ;  thus 
forming  a  double  palisade  against  the  charge  of  cavalry. 
In  the  centre  of  this  circle  was  placed  the  Ravager  of 
the  World,  and  round  it  a  rampart  of  shields.  Behind 
that  rampart  was  the  accustomed  post  at  the  onset  of 
battle  for  the  king  and  his  body-guard.  But  Tostig  was 
in  front,  with  his  own  Northumbrian  Lion  banner  and 
his  chosen  men. 

While  this  army  was  thus  being  formed,  the  English 
king  was  marshalling  his  force  in  the  far  more  formidable 
tactics,  which  his  military  science  had  perfected  from  the 
warfare  of  the  Danes.  That  form  of  battalion,  invincible 
hitherto  under  his  leadership,  was  in  the  manner  of  a 

*  Snorro  Sturleson. 


248  HAROLD. 

wedge  or  triangle,  thus  a.  So  that,  in  attack,  the  men 
marched  on  the  foe  presenting  the  smallest  possible  sur- 
face to  the  missives,  and,  in  defence,  all  three  lines  faced 
the  assailants.  King  Harold  cast  his  eye  over  the  closing 
lines,  and  then,  turning  to  Gurth,  who  rode  by  his  side, 
said, — 

"  Take  one  man  from  yon  hostile  army,  and  with  what 
joy  should  we  charge  on  the  Northmen  !  " 

"  I  conceive  thee,"  answered  Gurth  mournfully,  "  and 
the  same  thought  of  that  one  man  makes  my  arm  feel 
palsied." 

The  king  mused  and  drew  down  the  nasal  bar  of  his 
helmet. 

"  Thegns,"  said  he  suddenly,  to  the  score  of  riders  who 
grouped  round  him,  "  follow."  And  shaking  the  rein  of 
his  horse,  King  Harold  rode  straight  to  that  part  of  the 
hostile  front  from  which  rose,  above  the  spears,  the 
Northumbrian  banner  of  Tostig.  Wondering,  but  mute, 
the  twenty  thegns  followed  him.  Before  the  grim  array, 
and  hard  by  Tostig's  banner,  the  king  checked  his  steed 
and  cried, — 

"  Is  Tostig,  the  son  of  Godwin  and  Githa,  by  the  flag 
of  the  Northumbrian  earldom?" 

With  his  helmet  raised,  and  his  Norwegian  mantle 
flowing  over  his  mail,  Earl  Tostig  rode  forth  at  that 
voice,  and  came  up  to  the  speaker.* 

*  See  Snorro  Sturleson  for  this  parley  between  Harold  in  person 
and  Tostig.  The  account  differs  from  the  Saxon  chroniclers,  but 
in  this  particular  instance  is  likely  to  be  as  accurate. 


HAROLD.  249 

"What  wouldst  thou  with  me,  daring  foe?" 

The  Saxon  horseman  paused,  and  his  deep  voice  trem- 
bled tenderly,  as  he  answered  slowly, — 

"  Thy  brother,  King  Harold,  sends  to  salute  thee. 
Let  not  the  sons  from  the  same  womb  wage  unnatural 
war  in  the  soil  of  their  fathers." 

"What  will  Harold  the  king  give  to  his  brother?" 
answered  Tostig.  "  Northumbria  already  he  hath  be- 
stowed on  the  son  of  his  house's  foe." 

The  Saxon  hesitated,  and  a  rider  by  his  side  took  up 
the  word. 

"  If  the  Northumbrians  will  receive  thee  again,  North- 
umbria  shalt  thou  have,  and  the  king  will  bestow  his  late 
earldom  of  Wessex  on  Morcar ;  if  the  Northumbrians 
reject  thee,  thou  shalt  have  all  the  lordships  which  King 
Harold  hath  promised  to  Gurth." 

"This  is  well,"  answered  Tostig;  and  he  seemed  to 
pause  as  in  doubt ;  —  when,  made  aware  of  this  parley, 
King  Harold  Hardrada,  on  his  coal-black  steed,  with  his 
helm  all  shining  with  gold,  rode  from  the  lines,  and  came 
into  hearing. 

"Ha  !"  said  Tostig,  then,  turning  round,  as  the  giant 
form  of  the  Norse  king  threw  its  vast  shadow  over  the 
ground. 

"And  if  I  take  the  offer,  what  will  Harold  son  of  God- 
win give  to  my  friend  and  ally  Hardrada  of  Norway  ?" 

The  Saxon  rider  raised  his  head  at  these  words,  and 
gazed  on  the  large  front  of  Hardrada,  as  he  answered 
loud  and  distinct, — 

21* 


250  HAROLD. 

"  Seven  feet  of  land  for  a  grave,  or,  seeing  that  he  is 
taller  than  other  men,  as  much  more  as  his  corse  may 
demand  ln 

"  Then  go  back,  and  tell  Harold  my  brother  to  get 
ready  for  battle ;  for  never  shall  the  Scalds  and  the  war- 
riors of  Norway  say  that  Tostig  lured  their  king  in  his 
cause,  to  betray  him  to  his  foe.  Here  did  he  come,  and 
here  came  I,  to  win  as  the  brave  win,  or  die  as  the  brave 
die!" 

A  rider  of  younger  and  slighter  form  than  the  rest 
here  whispered  the  Saxon  king, — 

"  Delay  no  more,  or  thy  men's  hearts  will  fear  treason." 

11  The  tie  is  rent  from  my  heart,  O  Haco,"  answered 
the  king,  "and  the  heart  flies  back  to  our  England.' ' 

He  waved  his  hand,  turned  his  steed,  and  rode  off. 
The  eye  of  Hardrada  followed  the  horsemen. 

"And  who,"  he  asked  calmly,  "is  that  man  who  spoke 
so  well  ?"  * 

f1  King  Harold  ! "  answered  Tostig,  briefly. 

"How!"  cried  the  Norseman  reddening,  "how  was 
not  that  made  known  to  me  before  ?  Never  should  he 
have  gone  back,  —  never  told  hereafter  the  doom  of  this 
day  ! " 

With  all  his  ferocity,  his  envy,  his  grudge  to  Harold, 
and  his  treason  to  England,  some  rude  notions  of  honor 
still  lay  confused  in  the  breast  of  the  Saxon  ;  and  he 
answered  stoutly, — 

"Imprudent    was    Harold's    coming,    and    great   his 

*Snorro  Sturleson. 


HAROLD.  251 

danger :  but  he  came  to  offer  me  peace  and  dominion 
Had  I  betrayed  him,  I  had  not  been  his  foe,  but  his 
murderer ! " 

The  Norse  King  smiled  approvingly,  and  turning  to 
his  chiefs,  said  dryly, — 

"  That  man  was  shorter  than  some  of  us,  but  he  rode 
firm  in  his  stirrups." 

And  then  this  extraordinary  person,  who  united  in 
himself  all  the  types  of  an  age  that  vanished  for  ever  in 
his  grave,  and  who  is  the  more  interesting,  as  in  him  we 
see  the  race  from  which  the  Norman  sprang,  began,  in 
the  rich  full  voice  that  pealed  deep  as  an  organ,  to  chaunt 
his  impromptu  war-song.  He  halted  in  the  midst,  and 
with  great  composure  said, — 

"  That  verse  is  but  ill-tuned  :  I  must  try  a  better."  * 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow,  mused  an  instant, 
and  then,  with  his  fair  face  all  illumined,  he  burst  forth 
as  inspired. 

This  time,  air,  rhythm,  words,  all  so  chimed  in  with 
his  own  enthusiasm  and  that  of  his  men,  that  the  effect 
was  inexpressible.  It  was,  indeed,  like  the  charm  of 
those  runes  which  are  said  to  have  maddened  the  Ber- 
serker with  the  frenzy  of  war. 

Meanwhile  the  Saxon  phalanx  came  on,  slow  and  firm, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  battle  began.  It  commenced 
first  with  the  charge  of  the  English  cavalry  (never  numer- 
ous), led  by  Leofwine  and  Haco,  but  the  double  palisade 
of  the  Norsemen  spears  formed  an  impassable  barrier;  and 

*Suorro  Sturleson. 


252  HAROLD. 

the  horseman  recoiling  from  the  frieze,  rode  round  the 
iron  circle  without  other  damage  than  the  spear  and  jave- 
lin could  effect.  Meanwhile,  King  Harold,  who  had  dis- 
mounted, marched,  as  was  his  wont,  with  the  body  of 
footmen.  He  kept  his  post  in  the  hollow  of  the  triangular 
wedge  ;  whence  he  could  best  issue  his  orders.  Avoid- 
ing the  side  over  which  Tostig  presided,  he  halted  his 
array  in  full  centre  of  the  enemy  where  the  Ravager  of 
the  World,  streaming  high  above  the  inner  rampart  of 
shields,  showed  the  presence  of  the  giant  Hardrada. 

The  air  was  now  literally  darkened  with  the  flights  of 
arrows  and  spears ;  and  in  a  war  of  missives,  the  Saxons 
were  less  skilled  than  the  Norsemen.  Still  King  Harold 
restrained  the  ardor  of  his  men,  who,  sore  harassed  by 
the  darts,  yearned  to  close  on  the  foe.  He  himself,  stand- 
ing on  a  little  eminence,  more  exposed  than  his  meanest 
soldier,  deliberately  eyed  the  sallies  of  the  horse,  and 
watched  the  moment  he  foresaw,  when,  encouraged  by 
his  own  suspense,  and  the  feeble  attacks  of  the  cavalry, 
the  Norsemen  would  lift  their  spears  from  the  ground, 
and  advance  themselves  to  the  assault.  That  moment 
came  ;  unable  to  withhold  their  own  fiery  zeal,  stimulated 
by  the  tromp  and  the  clash,  and  the  war-hymns  of  their 
king,  and  his  choral  Scalds,  the  Norsemen  broke  ground 
and  came  on. 

"  To  your  axes,  and  charge  ! "  cried  Harold  ;  and 
passing  at  oncetfrom  the  centre  to  the  front,  he  led  on 
the  array. 

The  impetus  of  that  artful  phalanx  was  tremendous ; 


HAROLD.  253 

it  pierced  through  the  ring  of  the  Norwegians  ;  it  clove 
into  the  rampart  of  shields ;  and  King  Harold's  battle- 
axe  was  the  first  that  shivered  that  wall  of  steel ;  his  step 
the  first  that  strode  into  the  innermost  circle  that  guarded 
the  Bavager  of  the  World. 

Then  forth,  from  under  the  shade  of  that  great  flag, 
came,  himself  also  on  foot,  Harold  Hardrada :  shouting 
and  chaunting,  he  leapt  with  long  strides  into  the  thick 
of  the  onslaught.  He  had  flung  away  his  shield,  and 
swaying  with  both  hands  his  enormous  sword,  he  hewed 
down  man  after  man,  till  space  grew  clear  before  him  ; 
and  the  English,  recoiling  in  awe  before  an  image  of 
height  and  strength  that  seemed  superhuman,  left  but 
one  form  standing  firm,  and  in  front,  to  oppose  his  way. 

At  that  moment  the  whole  strife  seemed  not  to  belong 
to  an  age  comparatively  modern  :  it  took  a  character  of 
remotest  eld  ;  and  Thor  and  Odin  seemed  to  have  re- 
turned to  the  earth.  Behind  this  towering  and  Titan 
warrior,  their  wild  hair  streaming  long  under  their  helms, 
came  his  Scalds,  all  singing  their  hymns,  drunk  with  the 
madness  of  battle.  And  the  Kavager  of  the  World  tossed 
and  flapped  as  it  followed,  so  that  the  vast  raven  depict- 
ed on  its  folds  seemed  horrid  with  life.  And  calm  and 
alone,  his  eye  watchful,  his  axe  lifted,  his  foot  ready  for 
rusl  or  for  spring  —  but  firm  as  an  oak  against  fight  — 
stood  the  last  of  the  Saxon  kings. 

Down  bounded  Hardrada,  and  down  shore  his  sword  ; 
King  Harold's  shield  was  cloven  in  two,  and  the  force  of 
Mie  blow  brought  himself  to  his  kne^      But,  as  swift  as 

II.  —  22 


254  HAROLD. 

the  flash  of  that  sword,  he  sprang  to  his  feet ;  and  while 
Hardrada  still  bowed  his  head,  not  recovered  from  the 
force  of  his  blow,  the  axe  of  the  Saxon  came  so  full  on 
his  helmet,  that  the  giant  reeled,  dropped  his  sword,  and 
staggered  back ;  his  Scalds  and  his  chiefs  rushed  around 
him.  That  gallant  stand  of  King  Harold  saved  his  Eng- 
lish from  flight ;  and  now,  as  they  saw  him  almost  lost  in 
the  throng,  yet  still  cleaving  his  way  —  on,  on  —  to  the 
raven  standard,  they  rallied  with  one  heart,  and  shouting 
forth,  "  Out,  out !  Holy  Crosse  ! "  forced  their  way  to  his 
side,  and  the  fight  now  waged  hot  and  equal,  hand  to 
hand.  Meanwhile,  Hardrada,  borne  a  little  apart,  and 
relieved  from  his  dinted  helmet,  recovered  the  shock  of 
the  weightiest  blow  that  had  ever  dimmed  his  eye  and 
numbed  his  hand.  Tossing  the  helmet  on  the  ground, 
his  bright  lo%ks  glittering  like  sunbeams,  he  rushed  back 
to  the  melee.  Again,  helm  and  mail  went  down  before 
him ;  again,  through  the  crowd  he  saw  the  arm  that  had 
smitten  him  ;  again,  he  sprang  forwards  to  finish  the  war 
with  a  blow, — when  a  shaft  from  some  distant  bow  pierced 
the  throat  which  the  casque  now  left  bare  ;  a  sound  like 
the  wail  of  a  death-song  murmured  brokenly  from  his  lips, 
which  then  gushed  out  with  blood,  and  tossing  up  his 
arms  wildly,  he  fell  to  the  ground,  a  corpse.  At  that 
sight  a  yell  of  such  terror  and  woe  and  wrath,  all  com- 
mingled, broke  from  the  Norsemen,  that  it  hushed  the 
very  war  for  the  moment ! 

"  On  ! "  cried  the  Saxon  king,  "let  our  earth  take  its 
spoiler  !     On  to  the  standard,  and  the  day  is  our  own  1 w 


HAROLD.  255 

•  "  On  to  the  standard  ! "  cried  Haco,  who,  his  horse  slain 
under  him,  all  bloody  witn  wounds  not  his  own,  now  came 
to  the  king's  side.  Grim  and  tall  rose  the  standard,  and 
the  streamer  shrieked  and  flapped  in  the  wind  as  if  the 
raven  had  voice,  when  right  before  Harold,  right  between 
him  and  the  banner,  stood  Tostig  his  brother,  known  by 
the  splendor  of  his  mail,  the  gold  work  on  his  mantle  — 
known  by  the  fierce  laugh,  and  defying  voice. 

"What  matters!"  cried  Haco;  " strike,  0  king,  for 
thy  crown  ! " 

Harold's  hand  griped  Haco's  arm  convulsively ;  he 
lowered  his  axe,  and  passed  shudderingly  away. 

Both  armies  now  paused  from  the  attack;  for  both 
were  thrown  into  great  disorder,  and  each  gladly  gave 
respite  to  the  other,  to  re-form  its  own  shattered  array. 

The  Norsemen  were  not  the  soldiers  to  yield  because 
their  leader  was  slain — rather  the  more  resolute  to  fight, 
since  revenge  was  now  added  to  valor ;  yet,  but  for  the 
daring  and  promptness  with  which  Tostig  had  cut  his 
way  to  the  standard,  the  day  had  been  already  decided. 

During  the  pause,  Harold,  summoning  Gurth,  said  to 
him  in  great  emotion  :  "  For  the  sake  of  Nature,  for  the 
love  of  God,  go,  O  Gurth,  —  go  to  Tostig  ;  urge  him, 
now  Hardrada  is  dead,  urge  him  to  peace.  All  that  we 
can  proffer  with  honor,  proffer — quarter  and  free  retreat 
to  every  Norseman.*  Oh,  save  me,  save  us  from  a  bro- 
ther's blood  ! " 

*  Sharon  Turner's  Anglo-Saxons,  vol.  ii.  p  396.  Snorro  Sturleson. 


256  HAROLD. 

Gurth  lifted  his  helmet,  and  kissed  the  mailed  hand  that 
grasped  his  own. 

"  I  go,"  said  he.  And  so,  bare-headed,  and  with  a  sin- 
gle trumpeter,  he  went  to  the  hostile  lines. 

Harold  awaited  him  in  great  agitation ;  nor  could  any 
man  have  guessed  what  bitter  and  awful  thoughts  lay  in 
that  heart,  from  which,  in  the  way  to  power,  tie  after  tie 
had  been  wrenched  away.  He  did  not  wait  long;  and 
even  before  Gurth  rejoined  him,  he  knew,  by  an  unani- 
mous shout  of  fury,  to  which  the  clash  of  countless  shields 
chimed  in,  that  the  mission  had  been  in  vain. 

Tostig  had  refused  to  hear  Gurth,  save  in  presence  of 
the  Norwegian  chiefs  ;  and  when  the  message  had  been 
delivered,  they  all  cried,  "  We  would  rather  fall  one  across 
the  corpse  of  the  other,*  than  leave  a  field  in  which  our 
king  was  slain." 

"  Ye  hear  them,"  said  Tostig  ;  "as  they  speak,  speak 
I." 

"  Not  mine  this  guilt,  too,  0  God  !  "  said  Harold,  sol- 
emnly lifting  his  hand  on  high.     "Now,  then,  to  duty." 

By  this  time  the  Norwegian  reinforcements  had  .arrived 
from  the  ships,  and  this  for  a  short  time  rendered  the 
conflict,  that  immediately  ensued,  uncertain  and  critical. 
But  Harold's  generalship  was  now  as  consummate  as  his 
valor  had  been  daring.  He  kept  his  men  true  to  their 
irrefragable  line.  Even  if  fragments  splintered  off,  each 
fragment  threw  itself  into  the  form  of  a  resistless  wedge. 
One  Norwegian,  standing  on  the  bridge -of  Stanford,  long 

*  Snorro  Sturleson. 


HAROLD.  257 

guarded  that  pass ;  and  no  less  than  forty  Saxons  are 
said  to  have  perished  by  his  arm.  To  him  the  English 
king  sent  a  generous  pledge,  not  only  of  safety  for  the 
life,  but  honor  for  the  valor.  The  viking  refused  to  sur- 
render, and  fell  at  last  by  a  javelin  from  the  hand  of 
Haco.  As  if  in  him  had  been  embodied  the  unyielding 
war-god  of  the  Norsemen,  in  that  death  died  the  last  hope 
of  the  vikings.  They  fell  literally  where  they  stood  ;  many, 
from  sheer  exhaustion  and  the  weight  of  their  mail,  died 
without  a  blow.*  And  in  the  shades  of  nightfall,  Harold 
stood  amidst  the  shattered  rampart  of  shields,  his  foot 
on  the  corpse  of  the  standard-bearer,  his  hand  on  the 
Ravager  of  the  World. 

11  Thy  brother's  corpse  is  borne  yonder,"  said  Haco,  in 
the  ear  of  the  king,  as,  wiping  the  blood  from  his  sword, 
he  plunged  it  back  into  the  sheath. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

Young  Olave,  the  son  of  Hardrada,  had  happily 
escaped  the  slaughter.  A  strong  detachment  of  the  Nor- 
wegians had  still  remained  with  the  vessels  ;  and  amongst 
them  some  prudent  old  chiefs,  who,  foreseeing  the  proba- 
ble results  of  the  day,  and  knowing  that  Hardrada  would 

*  The  quick  succession  of  events  allowed  the  Saxon  army  no  time 
to  bury  the  slain ;  and  the  bones  of  the  invaders  whitened  the  field 
of  battle  for  many  years  afterwards. 
22*  2Q 


258  HAROLD. 

never  quit,  save  as  a  conqueror  or  a  corpse,  the  field  on 
which  he  had  planted  the  Ravager  of  the  World,  had 
detained  the  prince  almost  by  force  from  sharing  the  fate 
of  his  father.  But  ere  those  vessels  could  put  out  to  sea, 
the  vigorous  measures  of  the  Saxon  king  had  already 
intercepted  the  retreat  of  the  vessels.  And  then,  ranging 
their  shields  as  a  wall  round  their  masts,  the  bold  vikings 
at  least  determined  to  die  as  men.  But  with  the  morning 
came  King  Harold  himself  to  the  banks  of  the  river,  and 
behind  him,  with  trailed  lances,  a  solemn  procession  that 
bore  the  body  of  the  Scald  King.  They  halted  on  the 
margin,  and  a  boat  was  launched  towards  the  Norwegian 
fleet,  bearing  a  monk  who  demanded  the  chiefs  to  send  a 
deputation,  headed  by  the  young  prince  himself,  to  re- 
ceive the  corpse  of  their  king,  and  hear  the  proposals 
of  the  Saxon. 

The  vikings,  who  had  anticipated  no  preliminaries  to 
the  massacre  they  awaited,  did  not  hesitate  to  accept 
these  overtures.  Twelve  of  the  most  famous  chiefs  still 
surviving,  and  Olave  himself,  entered  the  boat;  and, 
standing  between  his  brothers  Leofwine  and  Gurth,  Ha- 
rold thus  accosted  them  :  — 

"Your  king  invaded  a  people  that  had  given  him  no 
offence  :  he  has  paid  the  forfeit  —  we  war  not  with  the 
dead  !  Give  to  his  remains  the  honors  due  to  the  brave. 
Without  ransom  or  condition,  we  yield  to  you  what  can 
no  longer  harm  us.  And  for  thee,  young  prince/'  con- 
tinued the  king,  with  a  tone  of  pity  in  his  voice,  as  he 
contemplated  the  stately  boyhood  and  proud  but  deep 


HAROLD.  259 

grief  in  the  face  of  Olave,  "  for  thee,  wilt  thou  not  live 
to  learn  that  the  wars  of  Odin  are  treason  to  the  Faith 
of  the  Cross  ?  We  have  conquered — we  dare  not  butcher. 
Take  such  ships  as  ye  need  for  those  that  survive.  Three- 
and-twenty  I  offer  for  your  transport.  Return  to  your 
native  shores,  and  guard  them  as  we  have  guarded  ours. 
Are  ye  contented  ?  " 

Amongst  those  chiefs  was  a  stern  priest — the  Bishop 
of  the  Orcades  —  he  advanced,  and  bent  his  knee  to  the 
king. 

"  0  Lord  of  England,"  said  he,  "yesterday  thou  didst 
conquer  the  form  —  to-day,  the  soul.  And  never  more 
may  generous  Norsemen  invade  the  coast  of  him  who 
honors  the  dead  and  spares  the  living." 

"Amen  ! "  .cried  the  chiefs,  and  they  all  knelt  to  Ha- 
rold. The  young  prince  stood  a  moment  irresolute,  for 
his  dead  father  was  on  the  bier  before  him,  and  revenge 
was  yet  a  virtue  in  the  heart  of  a  sea-king.  But  lifting 
his  eyes  to  Harold's,  the  mild  and  gentle  majesty  of  the 
Saxon's  brow  was  irresistible  in  its  benign  command  ; 
and  stretching  his  right  hand  to  the  king,  he  raised  on 
high  the  other,  and  said  aloud, ."  Faith  and  friendship 
with  thee  and  England  evermore." 

Then  all  the  chiefs  rising,  they  gathered  round  the 
bier,  but  no  hand,  in  the  sight  of  the  conquering  foe, 
lifted  the  cloth  of  gold  that  covered  the  corpse  of  the 
famous  king.  The  bearers  of  the  bier  moved  on  slowly 
towards  tne  boat ;  the  Norwegians  followed  with  mea- 
sured funereal  steps.     And  not  till  the  bier  was  placed 


260  HAROLD. 

on  board  the  royal  galley  was  there  heard  the  wail  of 
woe ;  but  then  it  came  loud,  and  deep,  and  dismal,  and 
was  followed  by  a  burst  of  wild  song  from  a  surviving 
Scald. 

The  Norwegian  preparations  for  departure  were  soon 
made,  and  the  ships  vouchsafed  to  their  convoy  raised 
anchor,  and  sailed  down  the  stream.  Harold's  eye  watched 
the  ships  from  the  river  banks. 

"And  there,"  said  he,  at  last,  "  there  glide  the  last  sails 
that  shall  ever  bear  the  devastating  raven  to  the  shores 
of  England." 

Truly,  in  that  field  had  been  the  most  signal  defeat 
those  warriors,  hitherto  almost  invincible,  had  known. 
On  that  bier  lay  the  last  son  of  Berserker  and  sea-king ; 
and  be  it,  0  Harold,  remembered  in  thine  honor,  that 
not  by  the  Norman,  but  by  thee,  true-hearted  Saxon, 
was  trampled  on  the  English  soil  the  Ravager  of  the 
World!"* 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Haco,  "  and  so,  methinks,  will  it  be. 
But  forget  not  the  descendant  of  the  Norsemen,  the 
count  of  Rouen  ! " 

Harold  started,  and  turned  to  his  chiefs.  "  Sound 
trumpet,  and  fall  in.  To  York  we  march.  There,  re- 
settle the  earldom,  collect  the  spoil,  and  then  back,  my 
men,  to  the  southern  shores.    Yet  first  kneel  thou,  Haco, 

*  It  may  be  said  indeed,  that,  in  the  following  reign,  the  Danes 
under  Osbiorn  (brother  of  King  Sweyn),  sailed  up  the  Humber; 
but  it  was  to  assist  the  English,  not  to  invade  them.  They  were 
bought  off  by  the  Norman,  —  not  conquered. 


HAROLD.  261 

son  of  my  brother  Sweyn  :  thy  deeds  were  done  in  the 
light  of  Heaven,  in  the  sight  of  warriors,  in  the  open 
field  :  so  should  thine  honors  find  thee  !  Not  with  the 
vain  fripperies  of  Norman  knighthood  do  I  deck  thee, 
but  make  thee  one  of  the  elder  brotherhood  of  Minister 
and  Miles.  I  gird  round  thy  loins  mine  own  baldric  of 
pure  silver  ;  I  place  in  thy  hand  mine  own  sword  of  plain 
steel,  and  bid  thee  rise  to  take  place  in  council  and  camps 
amongst  the  proceres  of  England, — earl  of  Hertford  and 
Essex.  Boy,"  whispered  the  king,  as  he  bent  over  the 
pale  cheek  of  his  nephew,  "  thank  not  me.  From  me  the 
thanks  should  come.  On  the  day  that  saw  Tostig's  crime 
and  his  death,  thou  didst  purify  the  name  of  my  brother 
Sweyn  !     On  to  our  city  of  York  !  " 

High  banquet  was  held  in  York  ;  and,  according  to 
the  customs  of  the  Saxon  monarchs,  the  king  could  not 
absent  himself  from  the  Victory  Feast  of  his  thegns. 
He  sate  at  the  head  of  the  board,  between  his  brothers. 
Morcar,  whose  departure  from  the  city  had  deprived  him 
of  a  share  in  the  battle,  had  arrived  that  day  with  his 
brother  Edwin,  whom  he  had  gone  to  summon  to  his  aid. 
And  though  the  young  earls  envied  the  fame  they  had 
not  shared,  the  envy  was  noble. 

Gay  and  boisterous  was  the  wassail;  and  lively  song, 
long  neglected  in  England,  woke,  as  it  wakes  ever,  at  the 
breath  of  Joy  and  Fame.  As  if  in  the  days  of  Alfred, 
the  harp  passed  from  hand  to  hand  :  martial  and  rough 
the  strain  beneath  the  touch  of  the  Anglo-Dane,  more 
refined  and  thoughtful  the  lay  when  it  chimed  to  the  voice 


262  HAROLD. 

of  the  Anglo-Saxon.  But  the  memory  of  Tostig  —  all 
guilty  though  he  was  —  a  brother  slain  in  war  with  a 
brother,  lay  heavy  on  Harold's  soul.  Still,  so  had  he 
schooled  and  trained  himself  to  live  but  for  England  — 
know  no  joy  and  no  woe  not  hers  —  that  by  degrees  and 
strong  efforts  he  shook  off  his  gloom.  And  music,  and 
song,  and  wine,  and  blazing  lights,  and  the  proud  sight 
of  those  long  lines  of  valiant  men,  whose  hearts  had  beat 
and  whose  hands  had  triumphed  in  the  same  cause,  all 
aided  to  link  his  senses  with  the  gladness  of  the  hour. 

And  now,  and  night  advanced,  Leofwine,  who  was 
ever  a  favorite  in  the  banquet,  as  Gurth  in  the  council, 
rose  to  propose  the  drink-heel,  which  carries  the  most 
characteristic  of  our  modern  social  customs  to  an  antiquity 
so  remote.  And  the  roar  was  hushed  at  the  sight  of  the 
young  earPs  winsome  face.  With  due  decorum,  he  un- 
covered his  head,*  composed  his  countenance,  and  be- 
gan— 

"  Craving  forgiveness  of  my  lord  the  King,  and  this 
noble  assembly,"  said  Leofwine,  "in  which  are  so  many 
from  whom  what  I  intend  to  propose  would  come  with 
better  grace,  I  would  remind  you  that  William,  Count 
of  the  Normans,  meditates  a  pleasure  excursion,  of  the 
same  nature  as  our  late  visitor  Harold  Hardrada's." 

A  scornful  laugh  ran  through  the  hall. 

"  And  as  we  English  are  hospitable  folk,  and  give  any 
man,  who  asks,  meat  and  board  for  one  night,  so  one 


*  The  Saxons  sat  at  meals  with  their  heads  co  rered. 


HAROLD.  263 

day's  welcome,  methinks,  will  be  all  that  the  Count  of 
the  Normans  will  need  at  our  English  hands." 

Flushed  with  the  joyous  insolence  of  wine,  the  wassail- 
ers  roared  applause. 

"  Wherefore,  this  drink-heel  to  William  of  Rouen  ! 
And,  to  borrow  a  saying  now  in  every  man's  lips,  and 
which,  I  think,  our  good  scops  will  take  care  that  our 
children's  children  shall  learn  by  heart,  —  since  he  covets 
our  Saxon  soil,  *  seven  feet  of  land'  in  frank  pledge  to 
him  for  ever  ! " 

"Drink-heel  to  William  the  Norman  ! "  shouted  the 
revellers ;  and  each  man,  with  mocking  formality,  took 
off  his  cap,  kissed  his  hand,  and  bowed.*  "  Brink-heel 
to  William  the  Norman  ! "  and  the  shout  rolled  from  floor 
to  roof — when,  in  the  midst  of  the  uproar,  a  man  all  be- 
dabbled with  dust  and  mire,  rushed  into  the  hall,  rushed 
through  the  rows  of  the  banqueters,  rushed  to  the  throne- 
chair  of  Harold,  and  cried  aloud,  "  William  the  Norman 
is  encamped  on  the  shores  of  Sussex ;  and,  with  the 
mightiest  armament  ever  yet  seen  in  England,  is  ravaging 
the  land  far  and  near!" 

♦Henry. 


BOOK   TWELFTH. 


THE   BATTLE   OP   HASTINGS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

In  the  heart  of  the  forest  land  in  which  Hilda's  abode 
was  situated,  a  gloomy  pool  reflected  upon  its  stagnant 
waters  the  still  shadows  of  the  autumnal  foliage.  As  is 
common  in  ancient  forests  in  the  neighborhood  of  men's 
wants,  the  trees  were  dwarfed  in  height  by  repeated  lop- 
pings, and  the  boughs  sprang  from  the  hollow,  gnarled 
boles  of  pollard  oaks  and  beeches ;  the  trunks,  vast  in 
girth,  and  covered  with  mosses  and  whitening  canker- 
stains,  or  wreaths  of  ivy,  spoke  of  the  most  remote 
antiquity ;  but  the  boughs  which  their  lingering  and 
mutilated  life  put  forth,  were  either  thin  and  feeble  with 
innumerable  branchlets,  or  were  centred  on  some  solitary 
distorted  limb  which  the  woodman's  axe  had  spared. 
The  trees  thus  assumed  all  manner  of  crooked,  deformed, 
fantastic  shapes — all  betokening  age,  and  all  decay — all, 
in  despite  of  the  noiseless  solitude  around,  proclaiming 
the  waste  and  ravages  of  man. 

The  time  was  that  of  the  first  watches  of  night,  when 

(264) 


HAROLD.  26 


the  autumnal  moon  was  brightest  and  broadest.  You 
might  see,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  pool,  the  antlers 
of  the  deer  every  now  and  then  moving  restless]}7  above 
the  fern  in  which  they  had  made  their  couch  ;  and,  through 
the  nearer  glades,  the  hares  and  conies  stealing  forth  to 
sport  or  to  feed  ;  or  the  bat,  wheeling  low,  in  chase  of  the 
forest  moth.  From  the  thickest  part  of  the  copse  came 
a  slow  human  foot,  and  Hilda,  emerging,  paused  by  the 
waters  of  the  pool.  That  serene  and  stony  calm  habitual 
to  her  features  was  gone  ;  sorrow  and  passion  had  seized 
the  soul  of  the  Yala,  in  the  midst  of  its  fancied  security 
from  the  troubles  it  presumed  to  foresee  for  others.  The 
lines  of  the  face  were  deep  and  care-worn — age  had  come 
on  with  rapid  strides — and  the  light  of  the  eye  was  vague 
and  unsettled,  as  if  the  lofty  reason  shook,  terrified  in  its 
pride,  at  last. 

"  Alone,  alone  !  "  she  murmured,  half  aloud  ;  V  yea, 
evermore  alone  !  And  the  grandchild  I  had  reared  to  be 
the  mother  of  kings  —  whose  fate,  from  the  cradle,  seemed 
linked  with  royalty  and  love  —  in  whom,  watching  and 
hoping  for,  in  whom  loving  and  heeding,  methought  I 
lived  again  the  sweet  human  life  —  hath  gone  from  ray 
hearth  —  forsaken,  broken-hearted  —  withering  down  to 
the  grave  under  the  shade  of  the  barren  cloister  !  Is 
mine  heart,  then,  all  a  lie?  Are  the  gods  who  led  Odin 
from  the  Scythian  East  but  the  juggling  fiends  whom  the 
craven  Christian  abhors?  Lo  !  the  Wine  Month  has 
come;  a  few  nights  more,  and  the  sun  which  all  prophecy 
foretold  should  go  clown  on  the  union  of  the  king  and  the 

II. —  23 


266  HAROLD. 

maid,  shall  bring  round  the  appointed  day :  yet  Aldyth 
still  lives,  and  Edith  still  withers ;  and  War  stands  side 
by  side  with  the  Church,  between  the  betrothed  and  the 
altar.  Yerily,  verily,  my  spirit  hath  lost  its  power,  and 
leaves  me  bowed,  in  the  awe  of  night,  a  feeble,  aged, 
hopeless,  childless  woman  ! " 

Tears  of  human  weakness  rolled  down  the  Yala's 
cheeks.  At  that  moment,  a  laugh  came  from  a  thing 
that  had  seemed  like  the  fallen  trunk  of  a  tree,  or  a 
trough  in  which  the  herdsman  waters  his  cattle,  so  still, 
and  shapeless,  and  undefined  it  had,  lain  amongst  the 
rank  weeds  and  night-shade,  and  trailing  creepers  on 
the  marge  of  the  pool.  The  laugh  was  low,  yet  fearful 
to  hear. 

Slowly,  the  thing  moved,  and  rose,  and  took  the  out- 
line of  a  human  form  ;  and  the  Prophetess  beheld  the 
witch  whose  sleep  she  had  disturbed  by  the  Saxon's 
grave. 

"  Where  is  the  banner  ? "  said  the  witch,  laying  her 
hand  on  Hilda's  arm,  and  looking  into  her  face  with 
bleared  and  rheumy  eyes  ;  "  where  is  the  banner  thy 
handmaids  were  weaving  for  Harold  the  earl  ?  Why 
didst  thou  lay  aside  that  labor  of  love  for  Harold  the 
king  ?  Hie  thee  home,  and  bid  thy  maidens  ply  all  night 
at  the  work  ;  make  it  potent  with  rune  and  with  spell, 
and  with  gums  of  the  seid.  Take  the  banner  to  Harold 
the  king  as  a  marriage-gift ;  for  the  day  of  his  birth  shall 
be  still  the  day  of  his  nuptials  with  Edith  the  Fair ! " 

Hilda  gazed  on  the  hideous  form  before  her ;  and  so 


HAROliP.  267 

had  her  soul  fallen  from  its  arrogant  pride  jf  place,  that 
instead  of  the  scorn  with  which  so  foul  a  pretender  to 
the  Great  Art  had  before  inspired  the  King-born  Pro- 
phetess, her  veins  tingled  with  credulous  awe. 

"Art  thou  a  mortal  like  myself,"  she  said  after  a  pause, 
"  or  one  of  those  beings  often  seen  by  the  shepherd  in 
mist  and  rain,  driving  before  them  their  shadowy  flocks? 
one  of  those  of  whom  no  man  knoweth  whether  they  are 
of  earth  or  of  Helheim  ?  whether  they  have  ever  known 
the  lot  and  conditions  of  flesh,  or  are  but  some  dismal 
race  between  body  and  spirit,  hateful  alike  to  gods  and 
to  men  ?  " 

The  dreadful  hag  shook  her  head,  as  if  refusing  to  an- 
swer the  question,  and  said, — 

"  Sit  we  down,  sit  we  down  by  the  dead  dull  pool,  and 
if  thou  wouldst  be  wise  as  I  am,  wake  up  all  thy  wrongs, 
fill  thyself  with  hate,  and  let  thy  thoughts  be  curses. 
Nothing  is  strong  on  earth  but  the  Will ;  and  hate  to 
the  will  is  as  the  iron  in  the  hands  of  the  war-man." 

"Ha!"  answered  Hilda,  "then,  thou  art  indeed  one 
of  the  loathsome  brood  whose  magic  is  born,  not  of  the 
aspiring  soul,  but  the  fiend-like  heart.  And  between  us 
there  is  no  union.  I  am  of  the  race  of  those  whom  priests 
and  kings  reverenced  and  honored  as  the  oracles  of  Hea- 
ven ;  and  rather  let  my  lore  be  dimmed  and  weakened,  in 
admitting  the  humanities  of  hope  and  love,  than  be  light- 
ened by  the  glare  of  the  wrath  that  Lok  and  Rana  bear 
the  children  of  men." 

"  What,  art  thou  so  base  and  so  doting,"  said  the  hag, 


268  HAROLD 

with  fierce  contempt,  "  as  to  know  that  another  has  sup- 
planted thine  Edith,  that  all  the  schemes  of  thy  life  are 
undone,  and  yet  feel  no  hate  for  the  man  who  hath  wronged 
her  and  thee  ? — the  man  who  had  never  been  king  if  thou 
hadst  not  breathed  into  him  the  ambition  of  rule  ?  Think, 
and  curse  !  " 

"My  curse  would  wither  the  heart  that  is  entwined 
within  his,"  answered  Hilda  ;  "  and,"  she  added  abruptly, 
as  if  eager  to  escape  from  her  own  impulses,  "  didst  thou 
not  tell  me,  even  now,  that  the  wrong  would  be  redressed, 
and  his  betrothed  yet  be  his  bride  on  the  appointed  day  ?  " 

"  Ha  !  home,  then  !  —  home  !  and  weave  the  charmed 
woof  of  the  banner,  broider  it  with  zimmes  and  with  gold 
worthy  the  standard  of  a  king  ;  for  I  tell  thee,  that  where 
that  banner  is  planted,  shall  Edith  clasp  with  bridal  arms 
her  adored.  And  the  hwata  thou  hast  read  by  the  bau- 
tastein,  and  in  the  temple  of  the  Briton's  revengeful  gods, 
shall  be  fulfilled. " 

"  Dark  daughter  of  Hela,"  said  the  Prophetess,  "  whe- 
ther demon  or  god  hath  inspired  thee,  I  hear  in  my  spirit 
a  voice  that  tells  me  thou  hast  pierced  to  a  truth  that  my 
lore  could  not  reach.  Thou  art  houseless  and  poor  ;  I 
will  give  wealth  to  thine  age  if  thou  wilt  stand  with  me 
by  the  altar  of  Thor,  and  let  thy  galdra  unriddle  the  se- 
crets that  have  baffled  mine  own.  All  foreshown  to  me 
hath  ever  come  to  pass,  but  in  a  sense  other  than  that  in 
which  my  soul  read  the  rune  and.  the  dream,  the  leaf  and 
the  fount,  the  star  and  the  Scin-laeca.    My  husband  slain 


HAROLD.  269 

in  his  youth  ;  my  daughter  maddened  with  woe  ;  her  lord 
murdered  on  his  hearth-stone  ;  Sweyn,  whom  I  loved  as 
my  child,"  —  the  Yala  paused,  contending  against  her 
own  emotions, —  "I  loved  them  all,"  she  faltered,  clasp- 
ing her  hands,  "  for  them  I  tasked  the  future.  The  future 
promised  fair ;  I  lured  them  to  their  doom,  and  when  the 
doom  came,  lo  !  the  promise  was  kept  !  but  how  ?  —  and 
now,  Edith,  the  last  of  my  race  ;  Harold,  the  pride  of 
my  pride  !  —  speak,  thing  of  Horror  and  Night,  canst 
thou  disentangle  the  web  in  which  my  soul  struggles, 
weak  as  the  fly  in  the  spider's  mesh  ? " 

"  On  the  third  night  from  this,  will  I  stand  with  thee 
by  the  altar  of  Thor,  and  unriddle  the  rede  of  my  mas- 
ters, unknown  and  unguessed,  whom  thou  hadst  duteously 
served.  And  ere  the  sun  rise,  the  greatest  mystery  earth 
knows  shall  be  bare  to  thy  soul ! " 

As  the  witch  spoke,  a  cloud  passed  over  the  moon ; 
and  before  the  light  broke  forth  again,  the  hag  had 
vanished.  There  was  only  seen  in  the  dull  pool,  the 
water-rat  swimming  through  the  rank  sedges ;  only  in 
the  forest,  the  grey  wings  of  the  owl,  fluttering  heavily 
across  the  glades ;  only  in  the  grass,  the  red  eyes  of  the 
bloated  toad. 

Then  Hilda  went  slowly  home,  and  the  maids  worked 
all  night  at  the  charmed  banner.  All  that  night,  too, 
the  watch-dogs  howled  in  the  yard,  through  the  ruined 
peristyle  —  howled  in  rage  and  in  fear.  And  under  the 
lattice  of  the  room  in  which  the  maids  broidered  the 
23* 


270  HAROLD. 

banner,  and  the  Prophetess  muttered  her  charm,  there 
couched,  muttering  also,  a  dark,  shapeless  thing,  at  which 
those  dogs  howled  in  rage  and  in  fear. 


CHAPTER   II. 

All  within  the  palace  of  Westminster  showed  the 
confusion  and  dismay  of  the  awful  time  ;  —  all,  at  least, 
save  the  council-chamber,  in  which  Harold,  who  had 
arrived  the  night  before,  conferred  with  his  thegns.  It 
was  evening  :  the  court-yards  and  the  halls  were  filled 
with  armed  men,  and  almost  with  every  hour  came  rider 
and  bode  from  the  Sussex  shores.  In  the  corridors  the 
Churchmen  grouped  and  whispered,  as  they  had  whis- 
pered and  grouped  in  the  day  of  King  Edward's  death. 
Stigand  passed  among  them,  pale  and  thoughtful.  The 
serge  gowns  came  rustling  round  the  Arch-prelate  for 
counsel  or  courage. 

"  Shall  we  go  forth  with  the  King's  army  ?  "  asked  a 
young  monk,  bolder  than  the  rest,  "  to  animate  the  host 
with  prayer  and  hymn?" 

"  Fool  ! "  said  the  miserly  prelate,  "fool  !  if  we  do  so, 
and  the  Norman  conquer,  what  become  of  our  abbacies 
and  convent  lands  ?  The  duke  wars  against  Harold,  not 
England.     If  he  slay  Harold " 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"  The  Atheling  is  left  us  yet.    Stay  we  here  ana  guard 


HAROLD.  271 

the  last  prince  of  the  House  of  Cerdic,"  whispered  Stigand, 
and  he  swept  on. 

In  the  chamber  in  which  Edward  had  breathed  his 
last,  his  widowed  Queen,  with  Aldyth  her  successor,  and 
Githa  and  some  other  ladies,  waited  the  decision  of  the 
council.  By  one  of  the  windows  stood,  clasping  each 
other  by  the  hand,  the  fair  young  bride  of  Gurth,  and 
the  betrothed  of  the  gay  Leofwine.  Githa  sate  alone, 
bowing  her  face  over  her  hands  —  desolate;  mourning 
for  the  fate  of  her  traitor  son  ;  and  the  wounds,  that  the 
recent  and  holier  death  of  Thyra  had  inflicted,  bled  afresh. 
And  the  holy  lady  of  Edward  attempted  in  vain,  by  pious 
adjurations,  to  comfort  Aldyth,  who,  scarcely  heeding 
her,  started  ever  and  anon  with  impatient  terror,  mutter- 
ing to  herself,  "  Shall  I  lose  this  crown  too?" 

In  the  council-hall,  debate  waxed  warm  —  which  was 
the  wiser,  to  meet  William  at  once  in  the  battle-field,  or 
to  delay  till  all  the  forces  Harold  might  expect  (and 
which  he  had  ordered  to  be  levied,  in  his  rapid  march 
from  York),  could  swell  his  host  ? 

"If  we  retire  before  the  enemy,"  said  Gurth,  "leaving 
him  in  a  strange  land,  winter  approaching,  his  forage  will 
fail.  He  will  scarce  dare  to  march  upon  London  :  if  he 
does,  we  shall  be  better  prepared  to  encounter  him.  My 
voice  is  against  resting  all  on  a  single  battle." 

"  Is  that  thy  choice  ?  "  said  Yebba,  indignantly.  "  Not 
so,  I  am  sure,  would  have  chosen  thy  father  ;  not  so  think 
the  Saxons  of  Kent  The  Norman  is  laying  waste  all  the 
lands  of  thy  subjects,  Lord  Harold  ;  living  on  plunder,  as 


272  HAROLD. 

a  robber,  in  the  realm  of  King  Alfred.  Dost  thou  think 
that  men  will  get  better  heart  to  fight  for  their  country  by 
hearing  that  their  king  shrinks  from  the  danger?" 

M  Thou  speakest  well  and  wisely,"  said  Haco  ;  and  all 
eyes  turned  to  the  young  son  of  Sweyn,  as  to  one  who 
best  knew  the  character  of  the  hostile  army  and  the  skill 
of  its  chief.  "We  have  now  with  us  a  force  flushed  with 
conquest  over  a  foe  hitherto  deemed  invincible.  Men  who 
have  conquered  the  Norwegian  will  not  shrink  from  the 
Norman.  Yictory  depends  upon  ardor  more  than  num* 
bers.  Every  hour  of  delay  damps  the  ardor.  Are  we 
sure  that  it  will  swell  the  numbers  ?  "What  I  dread  most 
is  not  the  sword  of  the  Norman  Duke,  it  is  his  craft. 
Rely  upon  it,  that  if  we  meet  him  not  soon,  he  will  march 
straight  to  London.  He  will  proclaim  by  the  way,  that 
he  comes  not  to  seize  the  throne,  but  to  punish  Harold, 
and  abide  by  the  Witan,  or  perchance  by  the  word  of  the 
Roman  pontiff.  The  terror  of  his  armament  unresisted, 
will  spread  like  «a  panic  through  the  land.  Many  will  be 
decoyed  by  his  false  pretexts,  many  awed  by  a  force  that 
the  King  dare  not  meet.  If  he  come  in  sight  of  the  city, 
think  you  that  merchants  and  cheapmen  will  not  be 
dau  ited  by  the  thought  of  pillage  and  sack  ?  They  will 
be  the  first  to  capitulate  at  the  first  house  which  is  fired. 
The  city  is  weak  to  guard  against  siege  ;  its  walls  long 
neglected  ;  and  in  sieges  the  Normans  are  famous.  Are 
we  so  united  (the  King's  rule  thus  fresh),  but  what  no 
cabals,  no  dissensions  will  break  out  amongst  ourselves  ? 
tt  the  duke  come,  as  come  he  will,  in  the  name  of  the 


HAROLD.  27H 

Church,  may  not  the  Churchmen  set  up  some  new  pre- 
tender to  the  crown — perchance  the  child  Edgar  ?  And, 
divided  against  ourselves,  how  ingloriously  should  we 
fall  !  Besides,  this  land,  though  never  before  have  the 
links  between  province  and  province  been  drawn  so  close, 
hath  yet  demarcations  that  make  the  people  selfish.  The 
Northumbrians,  I  fear,  will  not  stir  to  aid  London,  and 
Mercia  will  hold  aloof  from  our  peril.  Grant  that  William 
once  seize  London,  all  England  is  broken  up  and  dispi- 
rited ;  each  shire,  nay,  each  town  looking  only  to  itself. 
Talk  of  delay  as  wearing  out  the  strength  of  the  foe  ! 
No,  it  would  wear  out  oifr  own.  Little  eno',  I  fear,  is 
yet  left  in  our  treasury.  If  William  seize  London,  that 
treasury  is  his,  with  all  the  wealth  of  our  burgesses.  How 
should  we  maintain  an  army,  except  by  preying  on  the 
people,  and  thus  discontenting  them  ?  Where  guard  that 
army  ?  Where  are  our  forts  ?  where  our  mountains  ?  The 
war  of  delay  suits  only  a  land  of  rock  and  defile,  or  of 
castle  and  breast-work.  Thegns  and  warriors,  ye  have 
no  castles  but  your  breasts  of  mail.  Abandon  these,  and 
you  are  lost." 

A  general  murmur  of  applause  closed  this  speech  of 
Haco,  which,  while  wise  in  arguments  our  historians  have 
overlooked,  came  home  to  that  noblest  reason  of  bra\e 
men,  which  urges  prompt  resistance  to  foul  invasion. 

Up,  then,  rose  King  Harold. 

"  I  thank  you,  fellow-Englishmen,  for  that  applause 
with  which  ye  have  greeted  mine  own  thoughts  on  the 
lips  of  Haco.  Shall  it  be  said  that  your  King  rushed  to 
23  *  2r 


2T4  HAROLD. 

chase  his  own  brother  from  the  soil  of  outraged  England, 
yet  shrunk  from  the  sword  of  the  Norman  stranger  ? 
Well,  indeed,  might  my  brave  subjects  desert  my  banner 
if  it  floated  idly  over  these  palace  walls,  while  the  armed 
invader  pitched  his  camp  in  the  heart  of  England.  By 
delay,  William's  force,  whatever  it  might  be,  cannot  grow 
less  ;  his  cause  grows  more  strong  in  our  craven  fears. 
What  his  armament  may  be,  we  rightly  know  not ;  the 
report  varies  with  every  messenger,  swelling  and  lessen- 
ing with  the  rumors  of  every  hour.  Have  we  not  around 
us  now  our  most  stalwart  veterans  —  the  flower  of  our 
armies — the  most  eager  spirits* — the  vanquishers  of  Har- 
drada  ?  Thou  sayest,  Gurth,  that  all  should  not  be 
perilled  on  a  single  battle.  True.  Harold  should  be 
perilled,  but  wherefore  England  ?  Grant  that  we  win  the 
day  ;  the  quicker  our  despatch,  the  greater  our  fame,  the 
more  lasting  that  peace  at  home  and  abroad,  which  rests 
ever  its  best  foundation  on  the  sense  of  the  power,  which 
wrong  cannot  provoke,  unchastised.  Grant  that  we  lose ; 
a  loss  can  be  made  gain  by  a  king's  brave  death.  Why 
should  not  our  example  rouse  and  unite  all  who  survive 
us  ?  Which  the  nobler  example,  the  one  best  fitted  to 
protect  our  country  —  the  recreant  backs  of  living  chiefs, 
or  the  glorious  dead  with  their  fronts  to  the  foe  ?  Come 
what  may,  life  or  death,  at  least  we  will  thin  the  Norman 
numbers,  and  heap  the  barriers  of  our  corpses  on  the 
Norman  march.  At  least,  we  can  show  to  the  rest  of 
England  how  men  should  defend  their  native  land  !  And 
if,  as  I  believe  and  pray,  in  every  English  breast  beats  a 


HAROLD.  275 

heart  like  Harold's,  what  matters  though  a  king  should 
fall?  —  Freedom  is  immortal." 

He  spoke;  and  forth  from  his  baldric  he  drew  his 
sword.  Every  blade  at  that  signal,  leapt  from  the 
sheath  :  and  in  that  council-hall  at  least,  in  every  breast 
beat  the  heart  of  Harold. 


CHAPTER   III. 

The  chiefs  dispersed  to  array  their  troops  for  the  mor- 
row's march  ;  but  Harold  and  his  kinsmen  entered  the 
chamber  where  the  women  waited  the  decision  of  the 
council ;  for  that,  in  truth,  was  to  them  the  parting  inter- 
view. The  king  had  resolved,  after  completing  all  his 
martial  preparations,  to  pass  the  night  in  the  Abbey  of 
Waltham  ;  and  his  brothers  lodged,  with  the  troops  they 
commanded,  in  the  city  or  its  suburbs.  Haco  alone  re- 
mained with  that  portion  of  the  army  quartered  in  and 
around  the  palace. 

They  entered  the  chamber,  and  in  a  moment  each  heart 
had  sought  its  mate  ;  in  the  mixed  assembly,  each  only 
conscious  of  the  other.  There,  Gurth  bowed  his  noble 
head  over  the  weeping  face  of  the  young  bride  that  for 
the  last  time  nestled  to  his  bosom.  There,  with  a  smiling 
lip,  but  tremulous  voice,  the  gay  Leofwine  soothed  and 
ehided  in  a  breath  the  maiden  he  had  wooed  as  the  part- 


276  HAROLD. 

ner  for  a  life  that  his  mirthful  spirit  made  one  holiday  ; 
snatching  kisses  from  a  cheek  no  longer  coy. 

But  cold  was  the  kiss  which  Harold  pressed  on  the 
brow  of  Aldyth  ;  and  with  something  of  dudain,  and  of 
bitter  remembrance  of  a  nobler  love,  he  comforted  a  ter- 
ror which  sprang  from  the  thought  of  self. 

"  Oh,  Harold  ! "  sobbed  Aldyth,  "  be  not  rashly  brave  : 
guard  thy  life  for  my  sake.  Without  thee,  what  am  I  ? 
Is  it  even  safe  for  me  to  rest  here  ?  Were  it  not  better 
to  fly  to  York,  or  seek  refuge  with  Malcolm  the  Scot  fn 

"  Within  three  days  at  the  farthest,"  answered  Harold, 
11  thy  brothers  will  be  in  London.  Abide  by  their  coun- 
sel ;  act  as  they  advise  at  the  news  of  my  victory  or  my 
fall." 

He  paused  abruptly,  for  he  heard  close  beside  him  the 
broken  voice  of  Garth's  bride,  in  answer  to  her  lord. 

"Think  not  of  me,  beloved  ;  thy  whole  heart  now  be 

England's.     And  if — if " — her  voice  failed  a  moment, 

but  resumed  proudly,  "  why  even  thy  wife  is  safe,  for  she 
survives  not  her  lord  and  her  land!" 

The  king  left  his  wife's  side,  and  kissed  his  brother's 
bride. 

"Noble  heart!"  he  said;  "with  women  like  thee  for 
our  wives  and  mothers,  England  could  survive  the  slaugh- 
ter of  a  thousand  kings." 

He  turned  and  knelt  to  Githa.  She  threw  her  arms 
over  his  broad  breast,  and  wept  bitterly. 

"  Say  —  say,  Harold,  that  I  have  not  reproached  thee 
for  Tostig's  death.     I  have  obeyed  the  last  commands 


HAROLD.  271 

of  Godwin  my  lord.  I  have  deemed  thee  ever  right  and 
just ;  now  let  me  not  lose  thee,  too.  They  go  with  thee, 
all  my  surviving  sons,  save  the  exile  Wolnoth, — him  whom 
now  I  shall  never  behold  again.  Oh,  Harold  ! — let  not 
mine  old  age  be  childless  ! " 

"Mother, — dear,  dear  mother,  with  these  arms  round 
my  neck  I  take  new  life  and  new  heart.  No  !  never  bast 
thou  reproached  me  for  my  brother's  death  —  never  for 
aught  which  man's  first  duty  enjoined.  Murmur  not  that 
that  duty  commands  us  still.  We  are  the  sons,  through 
thee,  of  royal  heroes ;  through  my  father,  of  Saxon  free- 
men. Rejoice  that  thou  hast  three  sons  left,  whose  arms 
thou  mayest  pray  God  and  his  saints  to  prosper,  and  over 
whose  graves,  if  they  fall,  thou  shalt  shed  no  tears  of 
shame  ! " 

Then  the  widow  of  King  Edward,  who  (the  crucifix 
clasped  in  her  hands),  had  listened  to  Harold  with  lips 
apart  and  marble  cheeks,  could  keep  down  no  longer  her 
human,  woman's  heart ;  she  rushed  to  Harold  as  he  still 
knelt  to  Githa—knelt  by  his  side,  and  clasped  him  in  her 
arms  with  despairing  fondness  :  — 

"O  brother,  brother,  whom  I  have  so  deeply  loved 
when  all  other  love  seemed  forbidden  me  ; — when  he  who 
gave  me  a  throne  refused  me  his  heart ;  when,  looking  at 
thy  fair  promise,  listening  to  thy  tender  comfort, — when, 
remembering  the  days  of  old,  in  which  thou  wert  my  do- 
cile pupil,  and  we  dreamed  bright  dreams  together  of 
happiness  and  fame  to  come,  —  when,  loving  thee,  me- 
thought  too  well,  too  much  as  weak  mothers  may  love  a 


2T8  HAROLD. 

mortal  son,  I  prayed  God  to  detach  my  heart  from  earth  ; 
—oh,  Harold  1  now  forgive  me  all  my  coldness  ?  I  shud- 
der at  thy  resolve.  I  dread  that  thou  shouldst  meet  this 
man,  whom  an  oath  hath  bound  thee  to  obey.  Nay, 
frown  not —  I  bow  to  thy  will,  my  brother  and  my  king. 
I  know  that  thou  hast  chosen  as  thy  conscience  sanctions, 
as  thy  duty  ordains.  But  come  back — oh,  come  back  — 
thou  who,  like  me  [her  voice  whispered],  hast  sacrificed 
the  household  hearth  to  thy  country's  altars, — and  I  will 
never  pray  to  Heaven  to  love  thee  less  —  my  brother,  oh 
my  brother ! " 

In  all  the  room  were  then  heard  but  the  low  sounds  of 
sobs  and  broken  exclamations.  All  clustered  to  one  spot 
—  Leofwine  and  his  betrothed — Gurth  and  his  bride  — 
even  the  selfish  Aldyth,  ennobled  by  the  contagion  of  the 
sublime  emotion,  —  all  clustered  round  Githa  the  mother 
of  the  three  guardians  of  the  fated  land,  and  all  knelt 
before  her  by  the  side  of  Harold.  Suddenly,  the  widowed 
queen,  the  virgin  wife  of  the  last  heir  of  Cerdic,  rose, 
and  holding  on  high  the  sacred  rood  over  those  bended 
heads,  said,  with  devout  passion, — 

"  0  Lord  of  hosts  —  we  children  of  Doubt  and  Time, 
trembling  in  the  dark,  dare  not  take  to  ourselves  to  ques- 
tion thine  unerring  will.  Sorrow  and  death,  as  joy  and 
life,  are  at  the  breath  of  a  mercy  divine,  and  a  wisdom 
all-seeing :  and  out  of  the  hours  of  evil  thou  drawest,  in 
mystic  circle,  the  eternity  of  Good.  '  Thy  will  be  done 
on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven. 1  If,  0  Disposer  of  events, 
our  human  prayers   are  not  adverse  to  thy  pre-judged 


HAROLD.  2T9 

decrees,  protect  these  lives,  the  bulwarks  of  our  homes 
and  altars,  sons  whom  the  land  offers  as  a  sacrifice.  May 
thine  angel  turn  aside  the  blade — as  of  old  from  the  heart 
of  Isaac  !  But  if,  O  Ruler  of  Nations,  in  whose  sight 
the  ages  are  as  moments,  and  generations  but  as  sands  in 
the  sea,  these  lives  are  doomed,  may  the  death  expiate 
their  sins,  and,  shrived  on  the  battle-field,  absolve  and 
receive  the  souls !  "  » 


CHAPTER   IY. 

By  the  altar  of  the  abbey  church  of  Waltham,  that 
night,  knelt  Edith  in  prayer  for  Harold. 

She  had  taken  up  her  abode  in  a  small  convent  of  nuns 
that  adjoined  the  more  famous  monastery  of  Waltham  ; 
but  she  had  promised  Hilda  not  to  enter  on  the  novitiate, 
until  the  birth-day  of  Harold  had  passed.  She,  herself, 
had  no  longer  faith  in  the  omens  and  prophecies  that  had 
deceived  her  youth  and  darkened  her  life  ;  and,  in  the 
more  congenial  air  of  our  holy  Church,  the  spirit  ever  so 
chastened,  grew  calm  and  resigned.  But  the  tidings  of 
the  Norman's  coming,  and  the  king's  victorious  return  to 
his  capital,  had  reached  even  that  still  retreat ;  and  love, 
which  had  blent  itself  with  religion,  led  her  steps  to  that 
lonely  altar.  And  suddenly,  as  she  there  knelt,  only 
lighted  by  the  moon  through  the  high  casements,  she  was 
startled  by  the  sound  of  approaching  feet  and  murmuring 


280  HAROLD. 

voices.  She  rose  in  alarm — the  door  of  the  church  was 
thrown  open — torches  advanced — and  amongst  the  monks, 
between  Osgood  and  Aired,  came  the  king.  He  had 
come,  that  last  night  before  his  march,  to  invoke  the 
prayers  of  that  pious  brotherhood  ;  and  by  the  altar  he 
had  founded,  to  pray,  himself,  that  his  one  sin  of  faith 
forfeited  and  oath  abjured,  might  not  palsy  his  arm  and 
weigh  on  his  soul  in  the  hour  of  his  country's  need. 

Edith  stifled  the  cry  that  rose  to  her  lips,  as  the  torches 
fell  on  the  pale  and  hushed  and  melancholy  face  of  Ha- 
rold ;  and  she  crept  away  under  the  arch  of  the  vast  Saxon 
columns,  and  into  the  shade  of  abutting  walls.  The  monks 
and  the  king,  intent  on  their  holy  office,  beheld  not  that 
solitary  and  shrinking  form.  They  approached  the  altar ; 
and  there  the  king  knelt  down  lowlily,  and  none  heard 
the  prayer.  But,  as  Osgood  held  the  sacred  rood  over 
the  bended  head  of  the  royal  suppliant,  the  image  on  the 
crucifix,  (which  had  been  a  gift  from  Aired,  the  prelate, 
and  was  supposed  to  have  belonged  of  old  to  Augustine, 
the  first  founder  of  the  Saxon  church  —  so  that  by  the 
superstition  of  the  age,  it  was  invested  with  miraculous 
virtues,)  bowed  itself  visibly.  Yisibly,  the  pale  and  ghastly 
image  of  the  suffering  God  bowed  over  the  head  of  the 
kneeling  man ;  whether  the  fastenings  of  the  rood  were 
loosened,  or  from  what  cause  soever,  —  in  the  eyes  of  all 
the  brotherhood,  the  image  bowed.* 

A  thrill  of  terror  froze  every  heart,  save  Edith's,  too 
remote  to  perceive  the  portent,  and  save  the  king's,  whom 

*  Palgrave — '  Hist,  of  Anglo-Saxons.' 


HAROLD.  281 

the  omen  seemed  to  doom,  for  his  face  was  buried  in  h;^ 
clasped  hands.  Heavy  was  his  heart,  nor  needed  it  other 
warnings  than  its  own  gloom. 

Long  and  silently  prayed  the  king ;  and  when  at  last 
he  rose,  and  the  monks,  though  with  altered  and  tremu- 
lous voices,  began  their  closing  hymn,  Edith  passed  noise- 
lessly along  the  wall ;  and,  stealing  through  one  of  the 
smaller  doors  which  communicated  to  the  nunnery  an- 
nexed, gained  the  solitude  of  her  own  chamber.  There 
she  stood,  benumbed  with  the  strength  of  her  emotions 
at  the  sight  of  Harold,  thus  abruptly  presented.  How 
had  the  fond  human  heart  leapt  to  meet  him  !  Twice, 
thus,  in  the  august  ceremonials  of  religion,  secret,  shrink- 
ing, unwitnessed,  had  she,  his  betrothed,  she,  the  partner 
of  his  soul,  stood  aloof  to  behold  him.  She  had  seen 
him  in  the  hour  of  his  pomp,  the  crown  upon  his  brow, — 
seen  him  in  the  hour  of  his  peril  and  agony,  that  anointed 
head  bowed  to  the  earth.  And,  in  the  pomp  that  she 
could  not  share,  she  had  exulted  ;  but,  oh,  now — now, — 
Oh  now  that  she  could  have  knelt  beside  that  humbled 
form,  and  prayed  with  that  voiceless  prayer ! 

The  torches  flashed  in  the  court,  below ;  the  church 
was  again  deserted  ;  the  monks  passed  in  mute  proces- 
sion back  to  their  cloister  ;  but  a  single  man  paused, 
turned  aside,  and  stopped  at  the  gate  of  the  humbler  con- 
vent :  a  knocking  was  heard  at  the  great  oaken  door,  and 
the  watch-dog  barked.  Edith  started,  pressed  her  hand 
on  her  heart,  and  trembled.  Steps  approached  her  door 
24* 


282  HAROLD. 

— and  tha  abbess,  entering,  summoned  her  below,  to  hear 
the  farewell  greeting  of  her  cousin,  the  king. 

Harold  stood  in  the  simple  hall  of  the  cloister  :  a  single 
taper,  tall  and  wan,  burned  on  the  oak  board.  The  ab- 
bess led  Edith  by  the  hand  ;  and,  at  a  sign  from  the  king, 
withdrew.  So,  once  more  upon  earth,  the  betrothed  and 
divided  were  alone. 

"Edith,"  said  the  king,  in  a  voice  in  which  no  ear  but 
hers  could  have  detected  the  struggle,  "  do  not  think  I 
have  come  to  disturb  thy  holy  calm,  or  sinfully  revive  the 
memories  of  the  irrevocable  past :  where  once  on  my 
breast,  in  the  old  fashion  of  our  fathers,  I  wrote  thy 
name,  is  written  now  the  name  of  the  mistress  that  sup- 
plants thee.  Into  Eternity  melts  the  Past;  but  I  could 
not  depart  to  a  field  from  which  there  is  no  retreat  —  in 
which,  against  odds  that  men  say  are  fearful,  I  have  re- 
solved to  set  my  crown  and  my  life  —  without  once  more 
beholding  thee,  pure  guardian  of  my  happier  days  !  Thy 
forgiveness  for  all  the  sorrow  that,  in  the  darkness  which 
surrounds  man's  hopes  and  dreams,  I  have  brought  on 
thee,  (dread  return  for  love  so  enduring,  so  generous  and 
divine  !)  —  thy  forgiveness  I  wi41  not  ask.  Thou  alone, 
perhaps,  on  earth  knowest  the  soul  of  Harold  ;  and  if  he 
hath  wronged  thee,  thou  seest  alike  in  the  wronger  and 
the  wronged,  but  the  children  of  iron  Duty,  the  servants 
of  imperial  Heaven.  Not  thy  forgiveness  I  ask — but — 
but  —  Edith,  holy  maid  !  angel  soul  ! — thy  —  thy  bless- 
ing ! "  His  voice  faltered,  and  he  inclined  his  lofty  head 
as  to  a  saint. 


HAROLD.  28? 

•?  Oh  that  I  had  the  power  to  bless  ! "  exclaimed  Edith, 
mastering  her  rush  of  tears  with  an  heroic  effort ;   "and 
methinks  I  have  the  power — not  from  virtues  of  my  own, 
but  from  all  that  I  owe  to  thee  !     The  grateful  have  the 
power  to  bless.    For  what  do  I  not  owe  to  thee — owe  to 
that  very  love,  of  which  even  the  grief  is  sacred  ?     Poor 
child  in  the  house  of  the  heathen,  thy  love  descended 
upon  me,  and  in  it,  the  smile  of  God  !     In  that  love  my 
spirit  awoke,  and  was  baptized :  every  thought  that  has 
risen  from  earth,  and  lost  itself  in  Heaven,  was  breathed 
into  my  heart  by  thee  !     Thy  creature    and    thy  slave, 
hadst  thou  tempted  me  to  sin,  sin  had  seemed  hallowed 
by  thy  voice  ;  but  thou  saidst,  'True  love  is  virtue,'  and 
so  I  worshipped  virtue  in  loving  thee.     Strengthened, 
purified,  by  thy  bright  companionship,  from  thee  came 
the  strength  to  resign  thee  —  from  thee  the  refuge  under 
the  wings  of  God  —  from  thee  the  firm  assurance,  that 
our  union  yet  shall  be — not  as  our  poor  Hilda  dreams  on 
the  perishable  earth, — but  there  !  oh,  there  !  yonder,  by 
the  celestial  altars,  in  the  land  in  which  all  spirits  are 
filled  with  love.     Yes,  soul  of  Harold !  there  are  might 
and  holiness  in  the  blessing,  the  soul  thou  hast  redeemed 
and  reared,  sheds  on  thee  ! " 

.And  so  beautiful,  so  unlike  the  Beautiful  of  the  common 
earth,  looked  the  maid  as  she  thus  spoke,  and  laid  hands, 
trembling  with  no  human  passion,  on  that  royal  head — - 
that  could  a  soul  from  paradise  be  made  visible,  such 
might  be  the  shape  it  would  wear  to  a  mortal's  eye  ! 
Thus,  for  some  moments  both  were  silent ;  and  in  the 


284  HAROLD 

silence  the  gloom  vanished  from  the  heart  of  Harold,  and, 
through  a  deep  and  sublime  serenity,  it  rose  undaunted 
to  front  the  future. 

No  embrace — no  farewell  kiss  —  profaned  the  parting 
of  those  pure  and  noble  spirits — parting  on  the  threshold 
of  the  grave.  It  was  only  the  spirit  that  clasped  the 
spirit,  looking  forth  from  the  clay  into  measureless 
eternity.  Not  till  the  air  of  night  came  once  more  on 
his  brow,  and  the  moonlight  rested  on  the  roofs  and  fanes 
of  the  land  entrusted  to  his  charge,  was  the  man  once 
more  the  human  hero  ;  not  till  she  was  alone  in  her  deso- 
late chamber,  and  the  terrors  of  the  coming  battle-field 
chased  the  angel  from  her  thoughts,  was  the  maid  inspired 
once  more  the  weeping  woman. 

A  little  after  sun-rise,  the  abbess,  who  was  distantly 
akin  to  the  house  of  Godwin,  sought  Edith,  so  agitated 
by  her  own  fear  that  she  did  not  remark  the  trouble  of 
her  visitor.  The  supposed  miracle  of  the  sacred  image 
bowing  over  the  kneeling  king,  had  spread  dismay  through 
the  cloisters  of  both  nunnery  and  abbey  ;  and  so  intense 
was  the  disquietude  of  the  two  brothers,  Osgood  and 
Aired,  in  the  simple  and  grateful  affection  they  bore 
their  royal  benefactor,  that  they  had  obeyed  the  impulse 
of  their  tender,  credulous  hearts,  and  left  the  monastery 
with  the  dawn,  intending  to  follow  the  king's  march,* 
and  watch  and  pray  near  the  awful  battle-field.  Edith 
listened,  and  made  no  reply ;  the  terrors  of  the  abbess 


*  Palgrave  —  "  Hist,  of  Anglo-Saxons  " 


HAROLD.  285 

infected  her ;  the  example  of  the  two  monks  woke  the 
sole  thought  which  stirred  through  the  nightmare  dream 
that  suspended  reason  itself;  and  when,  at  noon,  the 
abbess  again  sought  the  chamber,  Edith  was  gone  :  — 
gone,  and  alone  —  none  knew  wherefore  —  none  guessed 
whither. 

AH  the  pomp  of  the  English  army  burst  upon  Harold's 
liew,  as,  in  the  rising  sun,  he  approached  the  bridge  of 
the  capital.  Over  that  bridge  came  the  stately  march, 
—  battle-axe,  and  spear,  and  banner,  glittering  in  the 
ray.  And  as  he  drew  aside,  and  the  forces  defiled  before 
him,  the  cry  of  "  God  save  King  Harold  !  "  rose  with  loud 
acclaim  and  lusty  joy,  borne  over  the  waves  of  the  river, 
startling  the  echoes  in  the  ruined  keape  of  the  Roman, 
heard  in  the  halls  restored  by  Canute,  and  chiming,  like 
a  chorus,  with  the  chaunts  of  the  monks  by  the  tomb  of 
Sebba  in  St.  Paul's,  —  by  the  tomb  of  Edward  at  St. 
Peter's. 

With  a  brightened  face,  and  a  kindling  eye,  the  king 
saluted  his  lines,  and  then  fell  into  the  ranks  towards  the 
rear,  where,  among  the  burghers  of  London  and  the 
lithsmen  of  Middlesex,  the  immemorial  custom  of  Saxon 
monarchs  placed  the  kingly  banner.  And,  looking  up, 
he  beheld,  not  his  old  standard  with  the  Tiger-heads  and 
the  Cross,  but  a  banner  both  strange  and  gorgeous.  On 
a  field  of  gold  was  the  effigies  of  a  Fighting  Warrior; 
and  the  arms. were  bedecked  in  orient  pearls,  and  the 
borders  blazed  in  the  rising  sun,  with  ruby,  amethyst, 
and    emerald.     While   he    gazed,  wonderingly,  on    this 


286  HAROLD. 

dazzling  ensign,  Haco,  who    rode  beside  the  standard- 
bearer,  advanced  and  gave  him  a  letter. 

"Last  night,"  said  he,  "  after  thou  hadst  left  the  palace, 
many  recruits,  chiefly  from  Hertfordshire  and  Essex,  came 
in  ;  but  the  most  gallant  and  stalwart  of  all,  in  arms  and 
in  stature,  were  the  lithsmen  of  Hilda.  With  them  came 
this  banner,  on  which  she  has  lavished  the  gems  that 
have  passed  to  her  hand  through  long  lines  of  northern 
ancestors,  from  Odin,  the  founder  of  all  northern  thrones 
So,  at  least,  said  the  bode  of  our  kinswoman." 

Harold  had  already  cut  the  silk  round  the  letter,  and 
was  reading  its  contents.     They  ran  thus  :  — 

"  King  of  England,  I  forgive  thee  the  broken  heart  of 
my  grandchild.  They  whom  the  land  feeds,  should  defend 
the  land.  I  send  to  thee,  in  tribute,  the  best  fruits  that 
grow  in  the  field  and  the  forest,  round  the  house  which 
my  husband  took  from  the  bounty  of  Canute;  —  stout 
hearts  and  strong  hands  !  Descending  alike,  as  do  Hilda 
and  Harold,  (through  Githa  thy  mother,)  from  the 
Warrior  God  of  the  North,  whose  race  never  shall  fail — 
take,  0  defender  of  the  Saxon  children  of  Odin,  the 
banner  I  have  broidered  with  the  gems  that  the  Chief  of 
the  Asas  bore  from  the  East.  Firm  as  love  be  thy  foot, 
strong  as  death  be  thy  hand,  under  the  sha$e  which  the 
banner  of  Hilda, — under  the  gleam  which  the  jewels  of 
Odin, — cast  on  the  brows  of  the  king!  So  Hilda,  the 
daughter  of  monarchs,  greets  Harold,  the  leader  of  men." 

Harold  looked  up  from  the  letter,  and  Haco  re- 
sumed :  — 


HAROLD.  287 

"Thou  canst  guess  not  the  cheering  effect  which  this 
banner,  supposed  to  be  charmed,  and  which  the  name 
of  Odin  alone  would  suffice  to  make  holy,  at  least  with 
thy  fierce  Anglo-Danes,  hath  already  produced  through 
the  army." 

"It  is  well,  Haco,"  said  Harold  with  a  smile.  "Let 
priest  add  his  blessing  to  Hilda's  charm,  and  Heaven 
will  pardon  any  magic  that  makes  more  brave  the  hearts 
that  defend  its  altars.  Now  fall  we  back,  for  the  army 
must  pass  beside  the  hill  with  the  crommel  and  grave- 
stone ;  there,  be  sure,  Hilda  will  be  at  watch  for  our 
march,  and  we  will  linger  a  few  moments  to  thank  her 
somewhat  for  her  banner,  yet  more  justly,  methinks,  for 
her  men.  Are  not  yon  stout  fellows  all  in  mail,  so  tall 
and  so  orderly,  in  advance  of  the  London  burghers, 
Hilda's  aid  to  our  Fyrd  ?  " 

"  They  are,"  answered  Haco. 

The  king  backed  his  steed  to  accost  them  with  his 
kingly  greeting  ;  and  then,  with  Haco,  falling  yet  farther 
to  the  rear,  seemed  engaged  in  inspecting  the  numerous 
wains,  bearing  missiles  and  forage,  that  always  accom- 
panied the  march  of  a  Saxon  army,  and  served  to 
strengthen  its  encampment.  But  when  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  hillock  by  which  the  great  body  of  the  army 
had  preceded  them,  the  king  and  the  son  of  Sweyn  dis- 
mounted, and  on  foot  entered  the  large  circle  of  the 
Celtic  ruin. 

By  the  side  of  the  Teuton  altar  they  beheld  two  forms, 
octh  perfectly  motionless  :  but  one  was  extended  on  the 


288  HAROLD. 

ground  as  in  sleep  or  in  death  ;  the  other  sate  beside  it, 
as  if  watching  the  corpse,  or  guarding  the  slumber.  The 
face  of  the  last  was  not  visible,  propped  upon  the  arms 
which  rested  on  the  knees,  and  hidden  by  the  hands.  But 
in  the  face  of  the  other,  as  the  two  men  drew  near,  they 
recognized  the  Danish  Prophetess.  Death  in  its  dreadest 
characters  was  written  on  that  ghastly  face  ;  woe  and 
terror,  beyond  all  words  to  describe,  spoke  in  the  hag- 
gard brow,  the  distorted  lips,  and  the  wild  glazed  stare 
of  the  open  eyes.  At  the  startled  cry  of  the  intruders 
on  that  dreary  silence,  the  living  form  moved  j  and  though 
still  leaning  its  face  on  its  hands,  it  raised  its  head  ;  and 
never  countenance  of  northern  vampire,  cowering  by  the 
rifled  grave,  was  more  fiend-like  and  appalling. 

"  Who  and  what  art  thou  ?  "  said  the  king  ;  "  and  how, 
thus  unhonored  in  the  air  of  heaven,  lies  the  corpse  of 
the  noble  Hilda  ?  Is  this  the  hand  of  nature  ?  Haco, 
Haco,  so  look  the  eyes,  so  set  the  features,  of  those  whom 
the  horror  of  ruthless  murder  slays  even  before  the  steel 
strikes.     Speak,  hag  —  art  thou  dumb?" 

"  Search  the  body,"  answered  the  witch,  "there  is  no 
wound  !  Look  to  the  throat,  —  no  mark  of  the  deadly 
gripe  !  I  have  seen  such  in  my  day.  There  are  none  on 
this  corpse,  I  trow  ;  yet  thou  sayest  rightly,  horror  slew 
her  !  Ha,  ha !  she  would  know,  and  she  hath  known  ; 
she  would  raise  the  dead  and  the  demon  ;  she  hath  raised 
them  ;  she  would  read  the  riddle — she  hath  read  it.  Pale 
king  and  dark  youth,  would  ye  learn  what  Hilda  saw, 
eh  ?  eh  ?    Ask  her  in  the  Shadow- World  where  she  awaits 


HAROLD.  289 

ye  !  Ha !  ye  too  would  be  wise  in  the  future ;  ye  too 
would  climb  to  Heaven  through  the  mysteries  of  hell. 
Worms  !  worms  !  crawl  back  to  the  clay  —  to  the  earth  ! 
One  such  night  as  the  hag  ye  despise  enjoys  as  her  sport 
ar.d  her  glee,  would  freeze  your  veins,  and  sere  the  life  in 
your  eye-balls,  and  leave  your  corpses  to  terror  and  won- 
der, like  the  carcase  that  lies  at  your  feet  ! " 

"  Ho  ! "  cried  the  king,  stamping  his  foot,  "  Hence, 
Haco  ;  rouse  the  household  ;  summon  hither  the  hand- 
maids ;  call  henchman  and  ceorl  to  guard  this  foul  raven. " 

Haco  obeyed  ;  but  when  he  returned  with  the  shudder- 
ing and  amazed  attendants,  the  witch  was  gone,  and  the 
king  was  leaning  against  the  altar  with  downcast  eyes, 
and  a  face  troubled  and  dark  with  thought. 

The  body  of  the  Yala  was  borne  into  the  house  ;  and 
the  king,  waking  from  his  reverie,  bade  them  send  for 
the  priests,  and  ordered  masses  for  the  parted  soul.  Then 
kneeling,  with  pious  hand  he  closed  the  eyes  and  smoothed 
the  features,  and  left  his  mournful  kiss  on  the  icy  brow. 
These  offices  fulfilled,  he  took  Haco's  arm,  and  leaning 
on  it,  returned  to  the  spot  on  which  they  had  left  their 
steeds.  Not  evincing  surprise  or  awe, — emotions  that 
seemed  unknown  to  his  gloomy,  settled,  impassible  na- 
ture—Haco  said  calmly,  as  they  descended  the  knoll, — 

"What  evil  did  the  hag  predict  to  thee?" 

"Haco,"  answered  the  king,  "yonder,  by  the  shores 
of  Sussex,  lies  all  the  future  which  our  eyes  now  should 
scan,  and  our  hearts  should  be  firm  to  meet.  These 
omens  and  apparitions  are  but  the  ghosts  of  a  dead  Re- 

II.  —  25  2s 


290  HAROLD. 

ligion  ;  spectres  sent  from  the  grave  of  the  fearful 
Heathenesse  ;  they  may  appal  but  to  lure  us  from  our 
duty.  Lo,  as  we  gaze  around — the  ruins  of  all  the  creeds 
that  have  made  the  hearts  of  men  quake  with  unsubstan- 
tial awe — lo,  the  temple  of  the  Briton  ! — lo,  the  fane  of 
the  Roman  !  —  lo,  the  mouldering  altar  of  our  ancestral 
Thor  !  Ages  past  lie  wrecked  around  us  in  these  shat- 
tered symbols.  A  new  age  hath  risen,  and  a  new  creed. 
Keep  we  to  the  broad  truths  before  us  ;  duty  here  ;  know- 
ledge comes  alone  in  the  Hereafter." 

"  That  Hereafter  ! — is  it  not  near  ?"  murmured  Haco. 

They  mounted  in  silence  ;  and  ere  they  regained  the 
army,  paused,  by  a  common  impulse,  and  looked  behind. 
Awful  in  their  desolation  rose  the  temple  and  the  altar  ! 
And  in  Hilda's  mysterious  death  it  seemed  that  their  last 
and  lingering  Genius, — the  Genius  of  the  dark  and  fierce, 
the  warlike  and  the  wizard  North,  had  expired  for  ever. 
Yet,  on  the  outskirt  of  the  forest,  dusk  and  shapeless, 
that  witch  without  a  name  stood  in  the  shadow,  pointing 
towards  them,  with  outstretched  arm,  in  vague  and  de- 
nouncing menace  ; — as  if,  come  what  may,  all  change  of 
creed, — be  the  faith  ever  so  simple,  the  truth  ever  so 
bright  and  clear, — there  is  a  superstition  native  to  that 
Border-land  between  the  Visible  and  the  Unseen,  which 
will  find  its  priest  and  its  votaries,  till  the  full  and  crown- 
ing splendor  of  Heaven  shall  melt  every  shadow  from 
the  world ! 


HAROLD  291 


CHAPTER   V. 

On  the  broad  plain  between  Pevensey  and  Hastings, 
Duke  William  had  arrayed  his  armaments.  In  the  rear 
he  had  built  a  castle  of  wood,  all  the  framework  of  which 
he  Lad  brought  with  him,  and  which  was  to  serve  as  a 
refuge  in  case  of  retreat.  His  ships  he  had  run  into  deep 
water  and  scuttled  ;  so  that  the  thought  of  return,  without 
victory,  might  be  banished  from  his  miscellaneous  and 
multitudinous  force.  His  outposts  stretched  for  miles, 
keeping  watch  night  and  day  against  surprise.  The 
ground  chosen  was  adapted  for  all  the  manoeuvres  of  a 
cavalry  never  before  paralleled  in  England,  nor  perhaps 
in  the  world,  —  almost  every  horseman  a  knight,  almost 
every  knight  fit  to  be  a  chief.  And  on  this  space  William 
reviewed  his  army,  and  there  planned  and  schemed,  re- 
hearsed and  re-formed,  all  the  stratagems  the  great  day 
might  call  forth.  But  most  careful,  and  laborious,  and 
minute,  was  he  in  the  manoeuvre  of  a  feigned  retreat. 
Not,  ere  the  acting  of  some  modern  play,  does  the  anxious 
manager  more  elaborately  marshal  each  man,  each  look, 
each  gesture,  that  are  to  form  a  picture  on  which  the 
curtain  shall  fall  amidst  deafening  plaudits,  than  did  the 
laborious  captain  appoint  each  man,  and  each  movement, 
in  his  lure  to  a  valiant  foe:  —  The  attack  of  the  foot, 
their  recoil,  their  affected  panic,  their  broken  exclama 


292  HAROLD. 

tions  of  despair  ;  — their  retreat,  first  partial  and  reluct- 
ant, next  seemingly  hurried  and  complete, — flying,  but 
in  flight  carefully  confused:  —  then  the  settled  watch- 
word, the  lightning  rally,  the  rush  of  the  cavalry  from 
the  ambush ;  the  sweep  and  hem  round  the  pursuing  fee, 
the  detachment  of  levelled  spears  to  cut  off  the  Saxon 
return  to  the  main  force,  and  the  lost  ground, — were  all 
directed  by  the  most  consummate  mastership  in  the  stage- 
play,  or  upokrisis,  of  war,  and  seized  by  the  adroitness 
of  practised  veterans. 

Not  now,  O  Harold  !  hast  thou  to  contend  against  the 
rude  heroes  of  the  Norse,  with  their  ancestral  strategy 
unimproved !  The  Civilization  of  Battle  meets  thee 
now  !  —  and  all  the  craft  of  the  Roman  guides  the  man- 
hood of  the  North. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  such  lessons  to  his  foot  and  his 
horsemen  —  spears  gleaming  —  pennons  tossing  —  lines 
re-forming  —  steeds  backing,  wheeling,  flying,  circling  — 
that  William's  eye  blazed,  and  his  deep  voice  thundered 
the  thrilling  word  ;  when  Mallet  de  Graville,  who  was  in 
command  at  one  of  the  outposts,  rode  up  to  him  at  full 
speed,  and  said  in  gasps,  as  he  drew  breath, — 

"  King  Harold  and  his  army  are  advancing  furiously. 
Their  object  is  clearly  to  come  on  us  unawares." 

"Hold!"  said  the  duke,  lifting  his  hand;  and  the 
knights  around  him  halted  in  their  perfect  discipline  ; 
then  after  a  faw  brief  but  distinct  orders  to  Odo,  Fitz- 
osborne,  and  some  other  of  his  leading  chiefs,  he  headed 
a  numerous  cavalcade  of  his  knights,  and  rode  fast  to  the 


HAROLD.  29& 

outpost  which  Mallet  had  left,  —  to  catch  sight  of  the 
coming  foe. 

The  horsemen  cleared  the  plain  —  passed  through  a 
wood,  mournfully  fading  into  autumnal  hues  —  and,  on 
emerging,  they  saw  the  gleam  of  Saxon  spears  rising  on 
the  brows  of  the  gentle  hills  beyond.  But  even  the  time, 
short  as  it  was,  that  had  sufficed  to  bring  William  in  view 
of  the  enemy,  had  sufficed  also,  under  the  orders  of  his 
generals,  to  give  to  the  wide  plain  of  his  encampment 
all  the  order  of  a  host  prepared.  And  William,  having 
now  mounted  on  a  rising  ground,  turned  from  the  spears 
on  the  hill-tops,  to  his  own  fast-forming  lines  on  the 
plain,  and  said  with  a  stern  smile, — 

u  Methinks  the  Saxon  usurper,  if  he  be  among  those 
on  the  height  of  yon  hills,  will  vouchsafe  us  time  to 
breathe.  St.  Michael  gives  his  crown  to  our  hands,  and 
his  corpse  to  the  crow,  if  he  dare  to  descend." 

And  so  indeedr  as  the  duke  with  a  soldier's  eye  foresaw 
from  a  soldier's  skill,  so  it  proved.  The  spears  rested  on 
the  summits.  It  soon  became  evident  that  the  English 
general  perceived  that  here  there  was  no  Hardrada  to 
surprise  ;  that  the  news  brought  to  his  ear  had  exagger- 
ated neither  the  numbers,  nor  the  arms,  nor  the  discipline 
of  tne  Norman  ;  and  that  the  battle  was  not  to  the  bold, 
but  to  the  wary. 

"  He  doth  right,"  said  William,  musingly  ;  "  nor  think, 

O  my  quens,  that  we  shall  find  a  fool's  hot  brain  under 

Harold's  helmet  of  iron.     How  is  this  broken  ground  of 

hillock  and  valley  named  in  our  chart?     It  is  strange 

25* 


294  HAROLD.. 

that  we  should  have  overlooked  its  strength,  and  suffered 
it  thus  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  foe.  How  is  it 
named  ?     Can  any  of  ye  remember  ?  " 

"A  Saxon  peasant,"  said  De  Graville,  "told  me  that 
the  ground  was  called  Senlac  *  or  Sanglac,  or  some  such 
name,  in  their  musicless  jargon. " 

"  Gramercy  !  "  quoth  Grantmesnil,  "  methinks  the  name 
will  be  familiar  eno'  hereafter ;  no  jargon  seemeth  the 
sound  to  my  ear  —  a  significant  name,  and  ominous  — 
Sanglac,  Sanguelac  —  the  Lake  of  Blood." 

"  Sanguelac  !  ?  said  the  duke,  startled  ;  "  where  have  I 
heard  that  name  before  ?  it  must  have  been  between 
sleeping  and  waking — Sanguelac,  Sanguelac!  —  truly 
sayest  thou,  through  a  lake  of  blood  we  must  wade  in- 
deed ! " 

"Yet,"  said  De  Graville,  "thine  astrologer  foretold 
that  thou  wouldst  win  the  realm  without  a  battle." 

"Poor  astrologer  !"  said  William,  "the  ship  he  sailed 
in  was  lost.  Ass  indeed  is  he  who  pretends  to  warn 
others,  nor  sees  an  inch  before  his  eyes  what  his  own  fate 
will  be  !  Battle  shall  we  have,  but  not  yet.  Hark  thee, 
Guillaume,  thou  hast  been  guest  with  this  usurper;  thou 
hast  seemed  to  me  to  have  some  love  for  him  —  a  love 
natural,  since  thou  didst  once  fight  by  his  side  ;  wilt  thou 
go  from  me  to  the  Saxon  host  with  Hugues  Maigrot,  the 
monk,  and  back  the  message  I  shall  send?" 

*  The  battle-field  of  Hastings  seems  to  have  been  called  Senlac, 
before  the  Conquest,  — Sanguelac  after  it. 


HAROLD^  ^  295 

The  proud  and  punctilious  Norman  thrice  crossed  him- 
self ere  he  answered,  — 

"  There  was  a  time,  Count  William,  when  I  should 
have  deemed  it  honor  to  hold  parle  with  Harold  the  brave 
earl ;  but  now,  with  the  crown  on  his  head,  I  hold  it 
shame  and  disgrace  to  barter  words  with  a  knight  unleal 
and  a  man  forsworn. " 

11  Natheless,  thou  shalt  do  me  this  favor,"  said  Williao, 
"for"  (and  he  took  the  knight  somewhat  aside)  "I  can- 
not disguise  from  thee  that  I  look  anxiously  on  the 
chance-  of  battle.  Yon  men  are  flushed  with  new  triumph 
over  the  greatest  warrior  Norway  ever  knew  ;  they  will 
fight  on  their  own  soil,  and  under  a  chief  whom  I  have 
studied  and  read  with  more  care  than  the  Comments  of 
Caesar,  and  in  whom  the  guilt  of  perjury  cannot  blind  me 
to  the  wit  of  a  great  general.  If  we  can  yet  get  our  end 
without  battle,  large  shall  be  my  thanks  to  thee,  and  I 
will  hold  thine  astrologer  a  man  wise,  though  unhappy." 

"  Certes,"  said  De  Graville  gravely,  "it  were  discour- 
teous to  the  memory  of  the  star-seer,  not  to  make  some 
effort  to  prove  his  science  a  just  one.  And  the  Chal- 
deans  " 

"  Plague  seize  the  Chaldeans  !  "  muttered  the  duke. 
"  Ride  with  me  back  to  the  camp,  that  I  may  give  thee 
my  message,  and  instruct  also  the  monk." 

"  De  Graville,"  resumed  the  duke,  as  they  rode  to- 
wards the  lines,  "  my  meaning  is  briefly  this.  I  do  not 
think  that  Harold  will  accept  my  offers  and  resign  his 
crown,  but  I  design  to  spread  dismay,  and  perhaps  re- 


296  HAROLD. 

volt,  amongst  his  captains ;  I  wish  that  they  may  know 
that  the  Church  lays  its  Curse  on  those  who  fight  against 
my  consecrated  banner.  I  do  not  ask  thee,  therefore,  to 
demean  thy  knighthood,  by  seeking  to  cajole  the  usurper  ; 
no,  but  rather  boldly  to  denounce  his  perjury,  and  startle 
his  liegemen.  Perchance  they  may  compel  him  to  terms 
—  perchance  they  may  desert  his  banner;  at  the  worst 
they  shall  be  daunted  with  full  sense  of  the  guilt  of  his 
cause." 

"Ha,  now  I  comprehend  thee,  noble  count;  and  trust 
me  I  will  speak  as  Norman  and  knight  should  speak." 

Meanwhile,  Harold,  seeing  the  utter  hopelessness  of  all 
sudden  assault,  had  seized  a  general's  advantage  of  the 
ground  he  had  gained.  Occupying  the  line  of  hills,  he 
began  forthwith  to  entrench  himself  behind  deep  ditches 
and  artful  palisades.  It  is  impossible  now  to  stand  on 
that  spot,  without  recognizing  the  military  skill  with 
which  the  Saxon  had  taken  his  post,  and  formed  his  pre- 
cautions. He  surrounded  the  main  body  of  his  troops 
with  a  perfect  breastwork  against  the  charge  of  the  horse. 
Stakes  and  strong  hurdles,  interwoven  with  osier  plaits, 
and  protected  by  deep  dykes,  served  at  once  to  neutralize 
that  arm  in  which  William  was  most  powerful,  and  in 
which  Harold  almost  entirely  failed  ;  while  the  possession 
of  the  ground  must  compel  the  foe  to  march,  and  to 
charge,  up  hill,  against  all  the  missiles  which  the  Saxons 
could  pour  down  from  their  entrenchments. 

Aiding,  animating,  cheering,  directing  all,  while  the 
dykes  were  fast  hollowed,  and  the  breastworks  fast  rose, 


^  HAROLD.  291 

the  king  of  England  rode  his  palfrey  from  line  to  line, 
and  work  to  work,  when,  looking  up,  he  saw  Haco  lead- 
ing towards  him,  up  the  slope,  a  monk,  and  a  warrior 
whom,  by  the  banderol  on  his  spear,  and  the  cross  on  his 
shield,  he  knew  to  be  one  of  the  Norman  knighthood. 

At  that  moment,  Gurth  and  Leofwine,  and  those 
thegns  who  commanded  counties,  were  thronging  round 
their  chief  for  instructions.  The  king  dismounted,  and 
beckoning  them  to  follow,  strode  towards  the  spot  on 
which  had  just  been  planted  his  royal  standard.  There 
halting,  he  said  with  a  grave  smile, — 

"  I  perceive  that  the  Norman  count  hath  sent  us  his 
bodes  ;  it  is  meet  that  with  me,  you,  the  defenders  of 
England,  should  hear  what  the  Norman  saith." 

"  If  he  saith  aught  but  prayer  for  his  men  to  return  to 
Rouen,  —  needless  his  message,  and  short  our  answer," 
said  Yebba,  the  bluff  thegn  of  Kent. 

Meanwhile  the  monk  and  the  Norman  knight  drew 
near,  and  paused  at  some  short  distance,  while  Haco,  ad- 
vancing, said  briefly, — 

"  These  men  I  found  at  our  out-posts  ;  they  demand  to 
speak  with  the  king." 

"  Under  his  standard  the  king  will  hear  the  Norman 
invader,"  replied  Harold;   "bid  them  speak." 

The  same  sallow,  mournful,  ominous  countenance,  which 
Harold  had  before  seen  in  the  halls  of  Westminster,  rising 
death-like  above  the  serge  garb  of  the  Benedict  of  Caen, 
<aow  presented  itself,  and  the  monk  thus  spoke, — 

"  In  the  name  of  William,  duke  of  the  Normans  in  the 

25* 


298  HAROLD.  + 

field,  count  of  Rouen  in  the  hall,  claimant  of  all  the  realms 
of  Anglia,  Scotland,  and  the  Walloons,  held  under  Ed- 
ward his  cousin,  I  come  to  thee,  Harold,  his  liege  and 
earl." 

"  Change  thy  titles,  or  depart,"  said  Harold,  fiercely, 
his  brow  no  longer  mild  in  its  majesty,  but  dark  as  mid- 
night. "  What  says  William  the  count  of  the  foreigners, 
to  Harold,  king  of  the  Angles,  and  Basileus  of  Britain  ?  M 

"  Protesting  against  thy  assumption,  I  answer  thee 
thus,"  said  Hugues  Maigrot.  "  First,  again  he  offers  thee 
all  Northumbria,  up  to  the  realm  of  the  Scottish  sub-king, 
if  thou  wilt  fulfil  thy  vow  and  cede  him  the  crown." 

"Already  have  I  answered, — the  crown  is  not  mine  to 
give  ;  and  my  people  stand  round  me  in  arms  to  defend 
the  king  of  their  choice.     What  next  ?  " 

"  Next  offers  William  to  withdraw  his  troops  from  the 
land,  if  thou  and  thy  council  and  chiefs,  will  submit  to  the 
arbitrement  of  our  most  holy  Pontiff,  Alexander  the  Se- 
cond, and  abide  by  his  decision  whether  thou  or  my  liege 
have  the  best  right  to  the  throne." 

"This,  as  Churchman,"  said  the  Abbot  of  the  great 
coi.vent  of  Peterborough  (who,  with  the  Abbot  of  Hide, 
haa  joined  the  march  of  Harold,  deeming  as  one  the  cause 
of  altar  and  throne),  "this,  as  Churchman,  may  /  take 
leave  to  answer.  Never  yet  hath  it  been  heard  in  Eng- 
land, that  the  spiritual  suzerain  of  Rome  should  give  us 
our  kings." 

"And,"  said  Harold,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "the  Pope 
hath  already  summoned  me  to  this  trial,  as  if  the  laws 


HAROLD.  299 

of  England  were  kept  in  the  rolls  of  the  Vatican  !  Already, 
if  rightly  informed,  the  pope  hath  been  pleased  to  decide 
that  our  Saxon  land  is  the  Norman's.  I  reject  a  judge 
without  a  right  to  decide  ;  and  I  mock  at  a  sentence  that 
profanes  Heaven  in  its  insult  to  men.     Is  this  all  ?" 

"  One  last  offer  yet  remains,"  replied  the  monk,  sternly. 
"  This  knight  shall  deliver  its  import.  But  ere  I  depart, 
and  thou  and  thine  are  rendered  up  to  Vengeance  Divine, 
I  speak  the  word  of  a  mightier  chief  than  William  of 
Rouen.  Thus  saith  his  holiness,  with  whom  rests  the 
power  to  bind  and  to  loose,  to  bless  and  to  curse  :  — 
1  Harold,  the  Perjurer,  thou  art  accursed  !  On  thee  and 
on  all  who  lift  hand  in  thy  cause,  rests  the  interdict  of 
the  Church.  Thou  art  excommunicated  from  the  family 
of  Christ.  On  thy  land,  with  its  peers  and  its  people, 
yea,  to  the  beast  in  the  field  and  the  bird  in  the  air,  to 
the  seed  as  the  sower,  the  harvest  as  the  reaper,  rest? 
God's  anathema  !  The  bull  of  the  Vatican  is  in  the  tent 
of  the  Norman  ;  the  gonfanon  of  St.  Peter  hallows  yon 
armies  to  the  service  of  Heaven.  March  on,  then  :  ye 
march  as  the  Assyrian  ;  and  the  angel  of  the  Lord  awaits 
ye  on  the  way." 

At  these  words,  which  for  the  first  time  apprised  the 
English  leaders  that  their  king-  and  kingdom  were  under 
the  awful  ban  of  excommunication,  the  thegns  and  abbots 
gazed  on  each  other  aghast.  A  visible  shudder  passed 
over  the  whole  warlike  conclave,  save  only  three,  Harold, 
and  Gurth,  and  Haco. 

The  king  himself  was  so  moved  by  indignation  at  the 


300  HAROLD. 

insolence  of  the  monk,  and  by  scorn  at  the  fulmen,  which 
resting  not  alone  on  his  own  head,  presumed  to  blast  the 
liberties  of  a  nation,  that  he  strode  towards  the  speaker, 
and  it  is  even  said  of  him  by  the  Norman  chroniclers, 
that  he  raised  his  hand  as  if  to  strike  the  denouncer  to 
the  earth. 

But  Gurth  interposed,  and  with  his  clear  eye  serenely 
shining  with  virtuous  passion,  he  stood  betwixt  monk 
and  king. 

"  0  thou,"  he  exclaimed,  "  with  the  words  of  religion 
on  thy  lips,  and  the  devices  of  fraud  in  thy  heart,  hide 
thy  front  in  thy  cowl,  and  slink  back  to  thy  master.  Heard 
ye  not,  thegns  and  abbots,  heard  ye  not  this  bad,  false 
man  offer,  as  if  for  peace,  and  as  with  the  desire  of  jus- 
tice, that  the  Pope  should  arbitrate  between  your  king 
and  the  Norman  ?  yet  all  the  while  the  monk  knew  that 
the  Pope  had  already  predetermined  the  cause ;  and  had 
ye  fallen  into  the  wile,  ye  would  but  have  cowered  under 
the  verdict  of  a  judgment  that  has  presumed,  even  before 
it  invoked  ye  to  the  trial,  to  dispose  of  a  free  people  and 
an  ancient  kingdom!" 

"  It  is  true,  it  is  true,"  cried  the  thegns,  rallying  from 
their  first  superstitious  terror,  and,  with  their  plain  English 
sense  of  justice,  revolted  at  the  perfidy  which  the  priest's 
overtures  had  concealed.  "  We  will  hear  no  more  ;  away 
with  the  Swikebode."* 

The  pale  cheek  of  the  monk  turned  yet  paler,  he  seemed 


*  Traitor  messenger 


HAROLD.  301 

abashed  by  the  storm  of  resentment  he  had  provoked  \ 
and  in  some  fear,  perhaps,  at  the  dark  faces  bent  on  him, 
he  slunk  behind  his  comrade  the  knight,  who  as  yet  had 
said  nothing,  but,  his  face  concealed  by  his  helmet,  stood 
motionless  like  a  steel  statue.  And,  in  fact,  these  two 
ambassadors,  the  one  in  his  monk  garb,  the  other  in  his 
iron  array,  were  types  and  representatives  of  the  two 
forces  now  brought  to  bear  upon  Harold  and  England  — 
Chivalry  and  the  Church. 

At  the  momentary  discomfiture  of  the  priest,  now  stood 
forth  the  warrior ;  and  throwing  back  his  helmet,  so  that 
the  whole  steel  cap  rested  on  the  nape  of  the  neck,  leaving 
the  haughty  face  and  half-shaven  head  bare,  Mallet  de 
Graville  thus  spoke  :  — 

"  The  ban  of  the  Church  is  against  ye,  warriors  and 
chiefs  of  England,  but  for  the  crime  of  one  man  !  Re- 
move it  from  yourselves :  on  his  single  head  be  the  curse 
and  the  consequence.  Harold,  called  King  of  England 
— failing  the  two  milder  offers  of  my  comrade,  thus  saith 
from  the  lips  of  his  knight  (once  thy  guest,  thy  admirer, 
and  friend),  thus  saith  William  the  Norman  :  — [  Though 
sixty  thousand  warriors  under  the  banner  of  the  Apostle 
wait  at  his  beck  (and  from  what  I  see  of  thy  force,  thou 
canst  marshal  to  thy  guilty  side  scarce  a  third  of  the 
number),  yet  will  Count  William  lay  aside  all  advantage, 
save  what  dwells  in  strong  arm  and  good  cause ;  and 
here,  in  presence  of  thy  thegns,  I  challenge  thee,  in  his 
name,  to  decide  the  sway  of  this  realm  by  single  battle. 
On  horse  and  in  mail,  with  sword  and  with  spear,  knight 

II.  —  26 


302  HAROLD. 

to  knight,  man  to  man,  wilt  thou  meet  William  the  Nor- 
man ? " 

Before  Harold  could  reply,  and  listen  to  the  first  im- 
pulse of  a  valor,  which  his  worst  Norman  maligner,  in 
the  after  day  of  triumphant  calumny,  never  so  lied  as  to 
impugn,  the  thegns  themselves,  almost  with  one  voice, 
took  up  the  reply. 

"  No  strife  between  a  man  and  a  man  shall  decide  the 
liberties  of  thousands  ! n 

11  Never  I"  exclaimed  Gurth.  "It  were  an  insult  to 
the  whole  people  to  regard  this  as  a  strife  between  two 
chiefs  —  which  should  wear  a  crown.  When  the  invader 
is  in  our  land,  the  war  is  with  a  nation,  not  a  king.  And, 
by  the  very  offer,  this  Norman  count  (who  cannot  even 
speak  our  tongue)  shows  how  little  he  knows  of  the  laws, 
by  which,  under  our  native  kings,  we  have  all  as  great 
an  interest  as  a  king  himself  in  our  fatherland.'' 

"  Thou  hast  heard  the  answer  of  Eng-land  from  those 
lips,  Sire  de  Graville,"  said  Harold  :  "  mine  but  repeat 
and  sanction  it.  I  will  not  give  the  crown  to  William 
in  lieu  for  disgrace  and  an  earldom.  I  will  not  abide  by 
the  arbitrement  of  a  pope  who  has  dared  to  affix  a  curse 
upon  freedom.  I  will  not  so  violate  the  principle  which 
in  these  realms  knits  king  and  people,  as  to  arrogate  to 
my  single  arm  the  right  to  dispose  of  the  birthright  of 
the  living,  and  their  races  unborn  ;  nor  will  I  deprive  the 
meanest  soldier  under  my  banner  of  the  joy  and  the  glory 
to  fight  for  his  native  land.  If  William  seek  me  he  shall 
find  me  where  war  is  the  fiercest,  where  the  corpses  of 


HAROLD.  303 

his  men  lie  the  thickest  on  the  plains,  defending  this 
standard  or  rushing  on  his  own.  And  so,  not  monk  and 
pope,  but  God  in  his  wisdom,  adjudge  between  us  !  * 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Mallet  de  Graville,  solemnly,  and  his 
helmet  reelosed  over  his  face.  "  Look  to  it,  recreant 
knight,  perjured  Christian,  and  usurping  king  !  The 
bones  of  the  dead  fight  against  thee." 

"And  the  fleshless  hands  of  the  saints  marshal  the  hosts 
of  the  living,"  said  the  monk. 

And  so  the  messengers  turned,  without  obeisance  or 
salute,  and  strode  silently  away. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  rest  of  that  day  and  the  whole  of  the  next  were 
consumed  by  both  armaments  in  the  completion  of  their 
preparations. 

William  was  willing  to  delay  the  engagement  as  long 
as  he  could  ;  for  he  was  not  without  hope  that  Harold 
might  abandon  his  formidable  position  and  become  the 
assailing  party;  and,  moreover,  he  wished  to  have  full 
time  for  his  prelates  and  priests  to  inflame  to  the  utmost, 
by  their  representations  of  William 's  moderation  in  his 
embassy  and  Harold's  presumptuous  guilt  in  rejection, 
the  fiery  fanaticism  of  all  enlisted  under  the  gonfanon  of 
the  Church. 

On  the  other  hand,  every  delay  was  of  advantage  to 


V 


304  H  A  R  0  L  t 

Harold,  in  giving  him  leisure  to  render  his  entrenchments 
yet  more  effectual,  and  to  allow  time  for  such  reinforce- 
ments as  his  orders  had  enjoined  or  the  patriotism  of  the 
country  might  arouse  ;  but  alas  !  those  reinforcements 
were  scanty  and  insignificant ;  a  few  stragglers  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood  arrived,  but  no  aid  came  from 
London,  no  indignant  country  poured  forth  a  swarming 
population.  In  fact,  the  very  fame  of  Harold  and  the 
good  fortune  that  had  hitherto  attended  his  arms,  con- 
tributed to  the  stupid  lethargy  of  the  people.  That  he 
who  had  just  subdued  the  terrible  Norsemen,  with  the 
mighty  Hardrada  at  their  head,  should  succumb  to  those 
dainty  "  Frenchmen,"  as  they  chose  to  call  the  Normans  ; 
of  whom,  in  their  insular  ignorance  of  the  continent,  they 
knew  but  little,  and  whom  they  had  seen  flying  in  all  direc- 
tions at  the  return  of  Godwin ;  was  a  preposterous  de- 
mand on  the  imagination. 

Nor  was  this  all :  in  London  there  had  already  formed 
a  cabal  in  favor  of  the  Atheling.  The  claims  of  birth 
can  never  be  so  wholly  set  aside  but  what  even  for  the 
most  unworthy  heir  of  an  ancient  line,  some  adherents 
will  be  found.  The  prudent  traders  thought  it  best  not 
to  engage  actively  on  behalf  of  the  reigning  king,  in  his 
present  combat  with  the  Norman  pretender;  a  large 
number  of  would-be  statesmen  thought  it  best  for  the 
country  to  remain  for  the  present  neutral.  Grant  the 
worst— grant  that  Harold  were  defeated  or  slain  ;  would 
it  not  be  wise  to  reserve  their  strength  to  support  the 
Atheling  ?     William  might  have  some  personal  cause  of 


HAROLD.  305 

quarrel  against  Harold,  but  he  could  have  none  against 
Edgar ;  he  might  depose  the  son  of  Godwin,  but  could 
he  dare  to  depose  the  descendant  of  Cerdic,  the  natural 
heir  of  Edward  ?  There  is  reason  to  think  that  Stigand 
and  a  large  party  of  the  Saxon  Churchnjen  headed  this 
faction. 

But  the  main  causes  for  defection  were  not  in  adherence 
to  one  chief  or  to  another.  They  were  to  be  found  in 
selfish  inertness,  in  stubborn  conceit,  in  the  long  peace, 
and  the  enervate  superstition  which  had  relaxed  the  sinews 
of  the  old  Saxon  manhood  ;  in  that  indifference  to  things 
ancient,  which  contempt  for  old  names  and  races  engen- 
dered ;  that  timorous  spirit  of  calculation,  which  the  over- 
regard  for  wealth  had  fostered  ;  which  made  men  averse 
to  leave  trade  and  farm  for  the  perils  of  the  field  and 
jeopard  their  possessions  if  the  foreigner  should  pre- 
vail. 

Accustomed  already  to  kings  of  a  foreign  race  and 
having  fared  well  under  Canute,  there  were  many  who 
said,  "  What  matters  who  sits  on  the  throne  ?  the  king 
must  be  equally  bound  by  our  laws."  Then  too  was 
heard  the  favorite  argument  of  all  slothful  minds  :  "  Time 
enough  yet ;  one  battle  lost  is  not  England  won.  Marry, 
we  shall  turn  out  fast  eno'  if  Harold  be  beaten." 

Add  to  all  these  causes  for  apathy  and  desertion,  the 
haughty  jealousies  of  the  several  populations  not  yet 
wholly  fused  into  one  empire.  The  Northumbrian  Danes, 
untaught  even  by  their  recent  escape  from  the  Norwegian, 
regarded  with  ungrateful  coldness  a  war  limited  at  pre- 
26*  2t 


306  HAROLD. 

sent  to  the  southern  coasts  ;  and  the  vast  territory  under 
Mercia  was,  with  more  excuse,  equally  supine  ;  while  their 
two  young  earls,  too  new  in  their  command  to  have  much 
sway  with  their  subject  populations  had  they  been  in  their 
capitals,  had  now  arrived  in  London  ;  and  there  lingered, 
making  head,  doubtless,  against  the  intrigues  in  favor  of 
the  Atheling :  —  so  little  had  Harold's  marriage  with 
Aldyth  brought  him,  at  the  hour  of  his  dreadest  need, 
the  power  for  which  happiness  had  been  resigned  ! 

Nor  must  we  put  out  of  account,  in  summing  the  causes 
which  at  this  awful  crisis  weakened  the  arm  of  England, 
the  curse  of  slavery  amongst  the  theowes,  which  left  the 
lowest  part  of  the  population  wholly  without  interest  in 
the  defence  of  the  land.  Too  late  —  too  late  for  all  but 
unavailable  slaughter,  the  spirit  of  the  country  rose 
amidst  the  violated  pledges,  but  under  the  iron  heel  of 
the  Norman  master  !  Had  that  spirit  put  forth  all  its 
might  for  one  day  with  Harold,  where  had  been  the  cen- 
turies of  bondage  !  Oh,  shame  to  the  absent !  All  blessed 
those  present !  There  was  no  hope  for  England  out  of 
the  scanty  lines  of  the  immortal  army  encamped  on  the 
field  of  Hastings.  There,  long  on  earth  and  vain  vaunts 
of  poor  pride,  shall  be  kept  the  roll  of  the  robber  invaders. 
In  what  roll  are  your  names,  holy  heroes  of  the  soil  ? 
Yes,  may  the  prayer  of  the  virgin  queen  be  registered  on 
high ;  and,  assoiled  of  all  sin,  O  ghosts  of  the  glorious 
dead,  may  ye  rise  from  your  graves  at  the  trump  of  the 
angel ;  and  your  names,  lost  on  earth,  shine  radiant  and 
stainless  amidst  the  hierarchy  of  heaven  ! 


HAROLD.  307 

Dull  came  the  shades  of  evening,  and  pale  through  the 
rolling  clouds  glimmered  the  rising  stars  ;  when,  —  all 
prepared,  all  arrayed, — Harold  sat  with  Haco  and  Gurth, 
in  his  tent :  and  before  them  stood  a  man,  half  French 
by  origin,  who  had  just  returned  from  the  Norman  camp. 

"  So  thou  didst  mingle  with  the  men  undiscovered  ? ,T 
Baid  the  king. 

"  No,  not  undiscovered,  my  lord.  I  fell  in  with  a  knight, 
whose  name  I  have  since  heard  as  that  of  Mallet  de  Gra- 
ville,  who  wilily  seemed  to  believe  in  what  I  stated,  and 
who  gave  me  meat  and  drink,  with  debonnair  courtesy. 
Then  said  he  abruptly,  —  'Spy  from  Harold,  thou  hast 
come  to  see  the  strength  of  the  Norman.  Thou  shalt 
have  thy  will  —  follow  me.'  Therewith  he  led  me,  all 
startled  I  own,  through  the  lines  ;  and,  0  king,  I  should 
deem  them  indeed  countless  as  the  sands,  and  resistless 
as  the  waves,  but  that,  strange  as  it  may  seem  to  thee,  I 
saw  more  monks  than  warriors." 

"  How  !  thou  jestest  ! "  said  Gurth,  surprised. 

"  No  ;  for  thousands  by  thousands,  they  were  praying 
and  kneeling ;  and  their  heads  were  all  shaven  with  the 
tonsure  of  priests." 

"Priests  are  they  not,"  cried  Harold,  with  his  calm 
smile,  "but  doughty  warriors  and  dauntless  knights." 

Then  he  continued  his  questions  to  the  spy  ;  and  his 
smile  vanished  at  the  accounts,  not  only  of  the  numbers 
of  the  force,  but  their  vast  provision  of  missiles,  and  the 
almost  incredible  proportion  of  their  cavalry. 


308  HAROLD. 

As  soon  as  the  spy  had  been  dismissed,  the  king  turned 
to  his  kinsmen. 

"  What  think  you  ?  "  he  said  ;  "  shall  we  judge  our- 
selves of  the  foe  ?  The  night  will  be  dark  anon  —  our 
steeds  are  fleet  —  and  not  shod  with  iron  like  the  Nor- 
mans ; — the  sward  noiseless  —  what  think  you  ?  " 

"A  merry  conceit,"  cried  the  blithe  Leofwine.  "I 
should  like  much  to  see  the  boar  in  his  den,  ere  he  taste 
of  my  spear-point." 

"And  I,"  said  Gurth,  "  do  feel  so  restless  a  fever  in 
my  veins,  that  I  would  fain  cool  it  by  the  night  air.  Let 
us  go  :  I  know  all  the  ways  of  the  country ;  for  hither 
have  I  come  often  with  hawk  and  hound.  But  let  us 
wait  yet  till  the  night  is  more  hushed  and  deep." 

The  clouds  had  gathered  over  the  whole  surface  of  the 
skies,  and  there  hung  sullen  ;  and  the  mists  were  cold 
and  grey  on  the  lower  grounds,  when  the  four  Saxon 
chiefs  set  forth  on  their  secret  and  perilous  enterprise. 

"  Knights  and  riders  took  they  none, 
Squires  and  varlets  of  foot  not  one; 
All  unarmed  of  weapon  and  weed, 
Save  the  shield,  and  spear,  and  the  sword  at  need."* 

Passing  their  own  sentinels,  they  entered  a  wood, 
durth  leading  the  way,  and  catching  glimpses,  through 

*  "  Ne  meinent  od  els  chevalier, 
Varlet  a  pie  ne  eskuier 
Ne  nul  d'els  n'a  armes  portee, 
Forz  sol  escu,  lance,  et  esp6e." 

Roman  de  Rou,  Second  Part,  v.  12,  126. 


HAROLD.  309 

the  irregular  path,  of  the  blazing  lights,  that  shone  red 
over  the  pause  of  the  Norman  war. 

William  had  moved  on  his  army  to  within  about  two 
miles  from  the  farthest  outpost  of  the  Saxon,  and  con- 
tracted his  lines  into  compact  space  ;  the  reconnoiterers 
were  thus  enabled,  by  the  light  of  the  links  and  watch- 
fires,  to  form  no  inaccurate  notion  of  the  formidable  foe 
whom  the  morrow  was  to  meet.  The  ground*  on  which 
they  stood  was  high,  and  in  the  deep  shadow  of  the 
wood  ;  with  one  of  the  large  dykes  common  to  the  Saxon 
boundaries  in  front,  so  that,  even  if  discovered,  a  barrier 
not  easily  passed  lay  between  them  and  the  foe. 

In  regular  lines  and  streets  extended  huts  of  branches 
for  the  meaner  soldiers,  leading  up,  in  serried  rows  but 
broad  vistas,  to  the  tents  of  the  knights,  and  the  gaudier 
pavilions  of  the  counts  and  prelates.  There,  were  to  be 
seen  the  flags  of  Bretagne  and  Anjou,  of  Burgundy,  of 
Flanders,  even  the  ensign  of  France,  which  the  volun- 
teers from  that  country  had  assumed ;  and  right  in  the 
midst  of  this  Capital  of  War,  the  gorgeous  pavilion  of 
William  himself,  with  a  dragon  of  gold  before  it,  sur- 
mounting the  staff,  from  which  blazed  the  Papal  gon» 
fanon.  In  every  division  they  heard  the  anvils  of  the 
armorers,  the  measured  tread  of  the  sentries,  the  neigh 

*  "Ke  d'une  angarde1  u  ils  'estuient 
Cels  de  Tost  virent,  ki  pres  furent." 

Roman  de  Rou,  Second  Part,  v.  12,  12U 


1  Angarde,  eminence. 


310  HAROLD. 

and  snort  of  innumerable  steeds.  And  along  the  lines, 
between  hut  and  tent,  they  saw  tall  shapes  passing  to  and 
from  the  forge  and  smithy,  bearing  mail,  and  swords,  and 
shafts.  No  sound  of  revel,  no  laugh  of  wassail  was 
heard  in  the  consecrated  camp  ;  all  was  astir,  but  with 
the  grave  and  earnest  preparations  of  thoughtful  men. 
As  the  four  Saxons  halted  silent,  each  might  have  heard, 
through  the  remoter  din,  the  other's  painful  breathing. 

At  length,  from  two  tents,  placed  to  the  right  and  left 
of  the  duke's  pavilion,  there  came  a  sweet  tinkling  sound, 
as  of  deep  silver  bells.  At  that  note  there  was  an  evident 
.and  universal  commotion  throughout  the  armament.  The 
roar  of  the  hammers  ceased  ;  and,  from  every  green  hut 
and  every  grey  tent,  swarmed  the  host.  Now,  rows  of 
living  men  lined  the  camp-streets,  leaving  still  a  free, 
though  narrow  passage  in  the  midst.  And,  by  the  blaze 
of  more  than  a  thousand  torches,  the  Saxons  saw  pro- 
cessions of  priests,  in  their  robes  and  aubes,  with  censer 
and  rood,  coming  down  the  various  avenues.  As  the 
priests  paused,  the  warriors  knelt ;  and  there  was  a  low 
murmur  as  if  of  confession,  and  the  sign  of  lifted  hands, 
as  if  in  absolution  and  blessing.  Suddenly,  from  the  out- 
skirts of  the  camp,  and  full  in  sight,  emerged,  from  one 
of  the  cross  lanes,  Odo  of  Bayeux  himself,  in  his  white 
surplice,  and  the  cross  in  his  right  hand.  Yea,  even  to 
;he  meanest  and  lowliest  soldiers  of  the  armament,  whe- 
ther taken  from  honest  craft  and  peaceful  calling,  or  the 
outpourings  of  Europe's  sinks  and  sewers,  catamarans 
from  the  Alps,  and  cut-throats  from  the  Rhine,  —  yea, 


HAROLD.  311 

even  among  the  vilest  and  the  meanest,  came  the  anointed 
brother  of  the  great  duke,  the  haughtiest  prelate  in 
Christendom,  whose  heart  even  then  was  fixed  on  the 
Pontiff's  throne — there  he  came,  to  absolve,  and  to  shrive, 
and  to  bless.  And  the  red  watch-fires  streamed  on  his 
proud  face  and  spotless  robes,  as  the  Children  of  Wrath 
knelt  around  the  Delegate  of  Peace. 

Harold's  hand  clenched  firm  on  the  arm  of  Gurth,  and 
his  old  scorn  of  the  monk  broke  forth  in  his  bitter  smile 
and  his  muttered  words.  But  Gurth's  face  was  sad  and 
awed. 

Arid  now,  as  the  huts  and  the  canvas  thus  gave  up  the 
living,  they  could  indeed  behold  the  enormous  disparity 
of  numbers  with  which  it  was  their  doom  to  contend, 
and,  over  those  numbers,  that  dread  intensity  of  zeal, 
that  sublimity  of  fanaticism,  which  from  one  end  of  that 
war-town  to  the  other,  consecrated  injustice,  gave  the 
heroism  of  the  martyr  to  ambition,  and  blended  the 
whisper  of  lusting  avarice  with  the  self-applauses  of  the 
saint ! 

Not  a  word  said  the  four  Saxons.  But  as  the  priestly 
procession  glided  to  the  farther  quarters  of  the  armament, 
as  the  soldiers  in  their  neighborhood  disappeared  within 
their  lodgements,  and  the  torches  -moved  from  them  to 
the  more  distant  vistas  of  the  camp,  like  lines  of  retreat- 
ing stars,  Gurth  heaved  a  heavy  sigh,  and  turned  his 
horse's  head  from  the  scene. 

But  scarce  had  they  gained  the  centre  of  the  wood, 
than  there  rose,  as  from  the  heart  of  the  armament,  a 


312  HAROLD. 

swell  of  solemn  voices.  For  the  night  had  now  come  to 
the  third  watch,*  in  which,  according  to  the  belief  of  the 
age,  angel  and  fiend  were  alike  astir,  and  that  church 
division  of  time  was  marked  and  hallowed  by  a  monastic 
hymn. 

Inexpressibly  grave,  solemn,  and  mournful,  came  the 
strain  through  the  drooping  boughs,  and  the  heavy  dark- 
ness of  the  air  ;  and  it  continued  to  thrill  in  the  ears  of 
the  riders  till  they  had  passed  the  wood,  and  the  cheerful 
watch-fires  from  their  own  heights  broke  upon  them  to 
guide  their  way.  They  rode  rapidly,  but  still  in  silence, 
past  their  sentries  ;  and,  ascending  the  slopes,  where  the 
forces  lay  thick,  how  different  were  the  sounds  that  smote 
them  1  Round  the  large  fires  the  men  grouped  in  great 
circles,  with  the  ale-horns  and  flagons  passing  merrily 
from  hand  to  hand  ;  shouts  of  drink-hsel  and  was-h&el, 
bursts  of  gay  laughter,  snatches  of  old  songs,  old  as  the 
days  of  Athelstan, — varying,  where  the  Anglo-Danes  lay, 
into  the  far  more  animated  and  kindling  poetry  of  the 
Pirate  North, — still  spoke  of  the  heathen  time  when  War 
was  a  joy,  and  Valhalla  was  the  heaven. 

"By  my  faith,"  said  Leofwine,  brightening,  "  these  are 
sounds  and  sights  that  do  a  man's  heart  good,  after  those 
doleful  ditties,  and  the  long  faces  of  the  shavelings.  I 
vow  by  St.  Alban,  that  I  felt  my  veins  curdling  into  ice- 
bolts,  when  that  dirge  came  through  the  woodholt.  Hollo, 
Sexwolf,  my  tall  man,  lift  us  up  that  full  horn  of  thine, 

*  Midnight. 


HAROLD.  313 

and  keep  thyself  within  the  pins,  Master  Wassailer  ;  we 
must  have  steady  feet  and  cool  heads  to-morrow." 

Sexwolf,  who,  with  a  band  of  Harold's  veterans,  was 
at  full  carousal,  started  up  at  the  young  earl's  greetings, 
and  looked  lovingly  into  his  smiling  face  as  he  reached 
him  the  horn. 

"  Heed  what  my  brother  bids  thee,  Sexwolf,"  said 
Harold,  severely;  "the  hands  that  draw  shafts  against 
us  to-morrow  will  not  tremble  with  the  night's  wassail." 

"  Nor  ours  either,  my  lord  the  king,"  said  Sexwolf, 
boldly  ;  "  our  heads  can  bear  both  drink  and  blows, — and 
[sinking  his  voice  into  a  whisper],  the  rumor  runs  that 
the  odds  are  so  against  us,  that  I  would  not,  for  all  thy 
fair  brothers'  earldoms,  have  our  men  other  than  blithe 
to-night." 

Harold  answered  not,  but  moved  on,  and  coming  then 
within  full  sight  of  the  bold  Saxons  of  Kent,  the  unmixed 
sons  of  the  Saxon  soil,  and  the  special  favorers  of  the 
House  of  Godwin,  so  affectionate,  hearty,  and  cordial 
was  their  joyous  shout  of  his  name,  that  he  felt  his  kingly 
heart  leap  within  him.  Dismounting,  he  entered  the  cir- 
cle, and  with  the  august  frankness  of  a  noble  chief,  nobly 
popular,  gave  to  all,  cheering  smile  and  animated  word. 
That  done,  he  said  more  gravely :  "  In  less  than  an  hour, 
all  wassail  must  cease, — my  bodes  will  come  round  ;  and 
then  sound  asleep,  my  brave  merry  men,  and  lusty  rising 
with  the  lark." 

11  As  you  will,  as  you  will,  dear  our  king,"  cried  Vebba, 

II. —27 


314  HAROLD. 

as  spokesman  for  the  soldiers  "  Fear  us  not — life  and 
death,  we  are  yours." 

"  Life  and  death  yours,  and  freedom's,"  cried  the  Kent 
men. 

Coming  now  towards  the  royal  tent  beside  the  stand- 
ard, the  discipline  was  more  perfect,  and  the  hush  deco- 
rous. For  round  that  standard  were  both  the  special 
body-guard  of  the  king,  and  the  volunteers  from  London 
and  Middlesex  ;  men  more  intelligent  than  the  bulk  of 
the  army,  and  more  gravely  aware,  therefore,  of  the  might 
of  Norman  sword. 

Harold  entered  his  tent,  and  threw  himself  on  his  couch, 
in  deep  reverie  ;  his  brothers  and  Haco  watched  him  si- 
lently. At  length,  Gurth  approached  ;  and  with  a  rev- 
erence rare  in  the  familiar  intercourse  between  the  two, 
knelt  at  his  brother's  side,  and,  taking  Harold's  hand  in 
his,  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  his  eyes  moist  with  tears, 
and  said  thus  : 

"  Oh,  Harold  !  never  prayer  have  I  asked  of  thee,  that 
thou  hast  not  granted  :  grant  me  this  !  sorest  of  all,  it 
may  be,  to  grant,  but  most  fitting  of  all  for  me  to  press. 
Think  not,  0  beloved  brother,  O  honored  king,  think  not 
it  is  with  slighting  reverence,  that  I  lay  rough  hand  on 
the  wound  deepest  at  thy  heart.  But,  however  surprised 
or  compelled,  sure  it  is  that  thou  didst  make  oath  to  Wil- 
liam, and  upon  the  relics  of  saints  ;  avoid  this  battle,  for 
I  see  that  thought  is  now  within  thy  soul ;  that  thought 
haunted  thee  in  the  words  of  the  monk  to-day  ;  in  the 
sight  of  that  awful  camp  to-night ;  -r-  avoid  this  battle  ! 


HAROLD.  315 

and  do  not  thyself  stand  in  arms  against  the  man  to  whom 
the  oath  was  pledged  ! n 

"  Gurth,  Gurth  ! "  exclaimed  Harold,  pale  and  writhing. 

"  We,"  continued  his  brother,  u  we  at  least  have  taken 
no  oath,  no  perjury  is  charged  against  us ;  vainly  the 
thunders  of  the  Yatican  are  launched  on  our  heads.  Our 
war  is  just :  we  but  defend  our  country.  Leave  us,  then, 
to  fight  to-morrow;  thou  retire  towards  London  and 
raise  fresh  armies  ;  if  we  win,  the  danger  is  past ;  if  we 
lose,  thou  wilt  avenge  us.  And  England  is  not  lost  while 
thou  survivest." 

"  Gurth,  Gurth  ! "  again  exclaimed  Harold,  in  a  voice 
piercing  in  its  pathos  of  reproach. 

"  Gurth  counsels  well,"  said  Haco,  abruptly  ;  "  there 
?an  be  no  doubt  of  the  wisdom  of  his  words.  Let  the 
king's  kinsmen  lead  the  troops;  let  the  king  himself  with 
his  guard  hasten  to  London,  and  ravage  and  lay  waste 
the  country  as  he  retreats  by  the  way;  *  so  that  even  if 
William  beat  us,  all  supplies  will  fail  him ;  he  will  be  in 
a  land  without  forage,  and  victory  here  will  aid  him 
nought ;  for  you,  my  liege,  will  have  a  force  equal  to  his 
own,  ere  he  can  march  to  the  gates  of  London." 

"  Faith  and  troth,  the  young  Haco  speaks  like  a  grey- 
beard;  he  hath  not  lived  in  Rouen  for  nought,"  quoth 
Leofwine.  "  Hear  him,  my  Harold,  and  leave  us  to  shave 
the  Normans  yet  more  closely  than  the  barber  hath  al- 
ready shorn." 

*  This  counsel  the  Norman  chronicler  ascribes  to  Gurth,  but  it  is 
so  at  variance  with  the  character  of  that  hero,  that  it  is  here  as- 
signed to  the  unscrupulous  intellect  of  Haco.  • 


316  HAROLD. 

Harold  turned  ear  and  eye  to  each  of  the  speakers, 
and  as  Leofwine  closed,  he  smiled. 

"  Ye  have  chid  me  well,  kinsmen,  for  a  thought  that 
had  entered  into  my  mind  ere  ye  spake * 

Gurth  interrupted  the  king,  and  said  anxiously  - 

"To  retreat  with  the  whole  army  upon  London,  ana 
refuse  to  meet  the  Norman  till  with  numbers  more  fairly 
matched  ?  " 

"  That  had  been  my  thought,"  said  Harold,  surprised. 

"  Such  for  a  moment,  too,  was  mine,"  said  Gurth,  sad- 
ly ;  "  but  it  is  too  late.  Such  a  measure,  now,  would  have 
all  the  disgrace  of  flight,  and  bring  none  of  the  profits  of 
retreat.  The  ban  of  the  Church  would  get  wind  ;  our 
priests,  awed  and  alarmed,  might  wield  it  against  us ;  the 
whole  population  would  be  damped  and  disheartened  ; 
rivals  to  the  crown  might  start  up ;  the  realm  be  divided. 
No,  it  is  impossible  !  " 

"  Impossible,"  said  Harold,  calmly.  "  And  if  the  army 
cannot  retreat,  of  all  men  to  stand  firm,  surely  it  is  the 
captain  and  the  king.  /,  Gurth,  leave  others  to  dare  the 
fate  from  which  I  fly  !  I  give  weight  to  the  impious  curse 
of  the  pope,  by  shrinking  from  its  idle  blast !  I  confirm 
and  ratify  the  oath,  from  which  all  law  must  absolve  me, 
by  forsaking  the  cause  of  the  land  which  I  purify  myself 
when  I  guard  !  /leave  to  others  the  agonj  of  the  mar- 
tyrdom or  the  glory  of  the  conquest !  Gurth,  thou  art 
more  cruel  than  the  Norman  !  And  I,  son  of  Sweyn,  / 
ravage  the  land  committed  to  my  charge,  and  despoil  the 


HAROLD.  311 

fields  which  I  cannot  keep  !  Oh,  Haco,  that  indeed  were 
to  be  the  traitor  and  the  recreant !  No :  whatever  the  sin 
of  my  oath,  never  will  I  believe  that  Heaven  can  punish 
millions  for  the  error  of  one  man.  Let  the  bones  of  the 
dead  war  against  us  ;  in  life,  they  were  men  like  our- 
selves, and  no  saints  in  the  calendar  so  holy  as  the  free- 
men who  fight  for  their  hearths  and  their  altars.  Nor 
do  I  see  aught  to  alarm  us  even  in  these  grave  human 
odds.  We  have  but  to  keep  fast  these  entrenchments  ; 
preserve,  man  by  man,  our  invincible  line,  and  the  waves 
will  but  split  on  our  rock  :  ere  the  sun  set  to-morrow,  we 
shall  see  the  tide  ebb,  leaving,  as  waifs,  but  the  dead  of 
the  baffled  invader." 

"  Fare  ye  well,  loving  kinsmen  ;  kiss  me,  my  brothers  ; 
kiss  me  on  the  cheek,  my  Haco.  Go  now  to  your  tents. 
Sleep  in  peace,  and  wake  with  the  trumpet  to  the  glad- 
ness of  noble  war  !  " 

Slowly  the  earls  left  the  king;  slowest  of  all  the  lin- 
gering Gurth  ;  and  when  all  were  gone,  and  Harold  was 
alone,  he  threw  round  a  rapid,  troubled  glance,  and  then, 
hurrying  to  the  simple  imageless  crucifix  that  stood  on  its 
pedestal  at  the  farther  end  of  the  tent,  he  fell  on  his  knees, 
and  faltered  out,  while  his  breast  heaved,  and  his  frame 
shook  with  the  travail  of  his  passion, — 

"  If  my  sin  be  beyond  a  pardon,  my  oath  without  re- 
call, on  me,  on  me,  0  Lord  of  Hosts,  on  me  alone  the 
doom  !     Not  on  them,  not  on  them  —  not  on  England  1 " 


2T* 


318  HAROLD. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

On  the  fourteenth  day  of  October,  1066,  the  day  of  St 
Calixtus,  the  Norman  force  was  drawn  out  in  battle  array. 
Mass  had  been  said ;  Odo  and  the  Bishop  of  Coutance 
had  blessed  the  troops,  and  received  their  vow  never 
more  to  eat  flesh  on  the  anniversary  of  that  day.  And 
Odo  had  mounted  his  snow-white  charger,  and  already 
drawn  up  the  cavalry  against  the  coming  of  his  brother 
the  duke.  The  army  was  marshalled  in  three  great  divi- 
sions. 

Roger  de  Montgommeri  and  William  Fitzosborne  led 
the  first ;  and  with  them  were  the  forces  from  Picardy 
and  the  countship  of  Boulogne,  and  the  fiery  Pranks ; 
Geoffric  Martel  and  the  German  Hugues  (a  prince  of 
fame) ;  Aimeri,  Lord  of  Thouars,  and  the  sons  of  Alain 
Pergant,  Duke  of  Bretagne,  led  the  second,  which  com- 
prised the  main  bulk  of  the  allies  from  Bretagne,  and 
Maine,  and  Poitou.  But  both  these  divisions  were  inter- 
mixed with  Normans,  under  their  own  special  Norman 
chiefs. 

The  third  section  embraced  the  flower  of  martial  Eu- 
rope, the  most  renowned  of  the  Norman  race ;  whether 
those  knights  bore  the  French  titles  into  which  their 
ancestral  Scandinavian  names  had  been  transformed  — 
Sires  of  Beaufou  and  Harcourt,  Abbeville,  and  De  Molun, 


HAROLD.  319 

Montfichet,  Grantmesnil,  Lacie.  D'Aincourt,  and  D'As- 
nieres  ; — or  whether  still  preserving,  amidst  their  daintier 
titles,  the  old  names  that  had  scattered  dismay  through 
the  seas  of  the  Baltic  ;  Osborne  and  Tonstain,  Mallet 
and  Bulver,  Brand  and  Bruse.*  And  over  this  division 
presided  Duke  William.  Here  was  the  main  body  of  the 
matchless  cavalry,  to  which,  however,  orders  were  given 
to  support  either  of  the  other  sections,  as  need  might 
demand.  And  with  this  body  were  also  the  reserve.  For 
it  is  curious  to  notice,  that  William's  strategy  resembled 
in  much  that  of  the  last  great  Invader  of  Nations  —  rely- 
ing first  upon  the  effect  of  the  charge  ;  secondly,  upon  a 
vast  reserve  brought  to  bear  at  the  exact  moment  on  the 
weakest  point  of  the  foe. 

All  the  horsemen  were  in  complete  link  or  net  mail,f 
araied  with  spears  and  strong  swords,  and  long,  pear- 
shaped  shields,  with  the    device  either  of  a  cross  or  a 

*  Osborne — (Asbiorn), — one  of  the  most  common  of  Danish  and 
Norwegian  names.  Tonstain,  Tonstain,  or  Tostain,  the  same  as 
Tosti,  or  Tostig, — Danish.  (Harold's  brother  is  called  Tostain  or 
Toustain  in  the  Norman  chronicles.)  Brand,  a  name  common  to 
Dane  and  Norwegian — Bulmer  is  a  Norwegian  name,  and  so  is  Bul- 
ver, or  Bolvar — which  is,  indeed,  so  purely  Scandinavian,  that  it  is 
one  of  the  warlike  names  given  to  Odin  himself  by  the  North-scalds. 
Bulverhithe  still  commemorates  the  landing  of  a  Norwegian  son  of 
the  war-god.  Bruce,  the  ancestor  of  the  deathless  Scot,  also  bears 
in  that  name,  more  illustrious  than  all,  the  proof  of  his  Scandina- 
vian birth. 

f  This  mail  appears  in  that  age  to  have  been  sewn  upon  linen  or 
cloth.  In  the  later  age  of  the  crusaders,  it  was  more  artful,  and 
the  links  supported  each  other,  without  being  attached  to  any  other 
material. 


320  HAROLD. 

dragon.*  The  archers,  on  whom  William  greatly  relied, 
were  numerous  in  all  three  of  the  corps,  f  were  armed 
more  lightly  —  helms  on  their  heads,  but  with  leather  or 
quilted  breast-plates,  and  "  panels,"  or  gaiters,  for  the 
lower  limbs. 

But  before  the  chiefs  and  captains  rode  to  their  several 
;  osts,  they  assembled  round  William,  whom  Fitzosborne 
had  called  betimes,  and  who  had  not  yet  endured  his 
heavy  mail,  that  all  men  might  see  suspended  from  his 
throat  certain  relics  chosen  out  of  those  on  which  Harold 
had  pledged  his  fatal  oath.  Standing  on  an  eminence  in 
front  of  all  his  lines,  the  consecrated  banner  behind  him, 
and  Bayard,  his  Spanish  destrier,  held  by  his  squires  at 
his  side,  the  duke  conversed  cheerily  with  his  barons, 
often  pointing  to  the  relics.  Then,  in  sight  of  all,  he 
put  on  his  mail,  and,  by  the  haste  of  the  squires,  the 
back-piece  was  presented  to  him  first.  The  superstitious 
Normans  recoiled  as  at  an  evil  omen. 

"Tut!"  said  the  ready  chief;  "not  in  omens  and 
divinations,  but  in  God,  trust  1 1  Yet,  good  omen  indeed 
is  this,  and  one  that  may  give  heart  to  the  most  doubt- 
ful ;  for  it  betokens  that  the  last  shall  be  first — the  duke- 
dom a  kingdom  —  the  count  a  king  !  Ho  there,  Rou  de 
Terni,  as  hereditary  standard-bearer  take  thy  right,  and 
hold  fast  to  yon  holy  gonfanon." 

"Grant  Merci,"  said  De  Terni,  "not  to-day  shall  a 

*  Bayeux  tapestry. 

f  The  cross-bow  is  not  to  be  seen  in  the  Bayeux  tapestry  —  the 
Norman  bows  are  not  long. 


HAROLD.  32\ 

standard  be  borne  by  me,  for  I  shall  have  need  of  m? 
right  arm  for  my  sword,  and  my  left  for  my  charger*© 
rein  and  my  trusty  shield.'' 

"  Thou  sayst  right,  and  we  can  ill  spare  such  a  warrior. 
Gautier  Giffart,  Sire  de  Longueville,  to  thee  is  the  gon~ 
fan  on." 

"Beau  Sire"  answered  Gautier;   "par  Bex,  Merci 
But  my  head  is  grey  and  my  arm  weak ;  and  the  little 
strength  left  me  I  would  spend  in  smiting  the  English  at 
the  head  of  my  men." 

"Per  la  resplendar  De"  cried  William,  frowning ;  — 
"do  ye  think,  my  proud  vavasours,  to  fail  me  in  this  great 
need  ?" 

"  Nay,"  said  Gautier ;  "  but  I  have  a  great  host  of 
chevaliers  and  paid  soldiers,  and  without  the  old  man  at 
their  head  will  they  fight  as  well?" 

"  Then,  approach  thou,  Tostain  le  Blanc,  son  of  Rou," 
said  William ;  "  and  be  thine  the  charge  of  a  standard 
that  shall  wave  ere  nightfall  over  the  brows  of  thy  — 
king!"  A  young  knight,  tall  and  strong  as  his  Danish 
ancestor,  stepped  forth  and  laid  gripe  on  the  banner. 

Then  William,  now  completely  armed,  save  his  helmet, 
sprang  at  one  bound  on  his  steed.  A  shout  of  admira- 
tion rang  from  the  quens  and  knights. 

Cl  Saw  ye  ever  such  beau  rei?"*  said  the  Yicomte  de 
Thouars. 

The  shout  was  caught  by  the  lines,  and  echoed  far, 


*  Roman  de  Rou. 
27*  2U 


322  HAROLD. 

wide,  and  deep  through  the  armament,  as  in  all  his 
singular  majesty  of  brow  and  mien,  William  rode  forth  : 
lifting  his  hand,  the  shout  hushed,  and  thus  he  spoke 
"loud  as  a  trumpet  with  a  silver  sound:"  — 

"Normans  and  soldiers,  long  hallowed  in  the  lips  of 
men  and  now  hallowed  by  the  blessing  of  the  Church  ! — 
I  have  not  brought  you  over  the  wide  sea  for  my  cause 
abne  ;  —  what  I  gain  ye  gain.  If  I  take  the  land,  you 
will  share  it.  Fight  your  best,  and  spare  not ;  — no  re- 
treat and  no  quarter!  I  am  not  come  here  for  my  cause 
alone,  but  to  avenge  our  whole  nation  for  the  felonies  of 
yonder  English.  They  butchered  our  kinsmen  the  Danes 
on  the  night  of  St.  Brice  ;  they  murdered  Alfred,  the 
brother  of  their  last  king,  and  decimated  the  Normans 
who  were  with  him.  Yonder  they  stand,  —  malefactors 
that  await  their  doom  !  and  ye  the  doomsmen  ?  Never, 
even  in  a  good  cause,  were  yon  English  illustrious  for 
warlike  temper  and  martial  glory.*  Remember  how 
easily  the  Danes  subdued  them  !  Are  ye  less  than  Danes, 
or  I  than  Canute  ?  By  victory  ye  obtain  vengeance, 
glory,  honors,  lands,  spoil,  —  ay,  spoil  beyond  your 
wildest  dreams.  By  defeat, — yea  even  but  by  loss  of 
ground,  ye  are  given  up  to  the  sword  !  Escape  there  is 
not,  for  the  ships  are  useless.  Before  you  the  foe,  behind 
you  the  ocean  !  Normans,  remember  the  feats  of  your 
countrymen  in  Sicily  !  Behold  a  Sicily  more  rich  !  Lord- 
Bhips  and  lands  to  the  living,  —  glory  and  salvation  to 

*  William  of  Poitiers. 


HAROLD.  323 

those  who  die  under  the  gonfanon  of  the  Church  !  On 
to  the  cry  of  the  Norman  warrior ;  the  cry  before  which 
have  fled  so  often  the  prowest  Paladins  of  Burgundy  and 
France  — l Notre  Dame  et  Bex  aide  ! 1  "  * 

Meanwhile,  no  less  vigilant,  and  in  his  own  strategy 
no  less  skilful,  Harold  had  marshalled  his  men.  He 
formed  two  divisions ;  those  in  front  of  the  entrench- 
ments, those  within  it.  At  the  first  the  men  of  Kent,  as 
from  time  immemorial,  claimed  the  honor  of  the  van, 
under  "the  Pale  Charger,"  —  famous  banner  of  Hengist. 
This  force  was  drawn  up  in  the  form  of  the  Anglo-Danish 
wedge  ;  the  foremost  lines,  in  the  triangle  all  in  heavy 
mail,  armed  with  their  great  axes  and  covered  by  their 
immense  shields.  Behind  these  lines,  in  the  interior  of 
the  wedge,  were  the  archers,  protected  by  the  front  rows 
of  the  heavy-armed  ;  while  the  few  horsemen — few  indeed 
compared  with  the  Norman  cavalry  —  were  artfully  dis- 
posed where  they  could  best  harass  and  distract  the 
formidable  chivalry  with  which  they  were  instructed  to 
skirmish  and  not  peril  actual  encounter.  Other  bodies 
of  the  light-armed  ;  slingers,  javelin  throwers,  and  archers, 
were  planted  in  spots  carefully  selected,  according  as  they 
were  protected  by  trees,  brush-wood,  and  dykes.  The 
Northumbrians  (that  is,  all  the  warlike  population  north 
the  Humber,  including  Yorkshire,  Westmoreland,  Cum- 
berland, &c.)  were,  for  their  present  shame  and  future 
ruin,  absent  from  the  field,  save,  indeed,  a  few  who  had 
joined  Harold  in  his  march  to  London.     But  there  were 

*  Dieu  nous  aids 


324  HAROLD. 

'lie  mixed  races  of  Hertfordshire  and  Essex,  with  the 
pure  Saxons  of  Sussex  and  Surrey,  and  a  large  body  of 
the  sturdy  Anglo-Danes  from  Lincolnshire,  Ely,  and 
Norfolk.  Men,  too,  there  were,  half  of  old  British  blood, 
from  Dorset,  Somerset,  and  Gloucester. 

And  all  were  marshalled  according  to  those  touching 
and  pathetic  tactics  which  speak  of  a  nation  more  accus- 
tomed to  defend  than  to  aggrieve.  To  that  field  the 
head  of  each  family  led  his  sons  and  kinsfolk  ;  every  ten 
families  (or  tything)  were  united  under  their  own  chosen 
captain.  Every  ten  of  these  tythings  had  again  some 
loftier  chief,  dear  to  the  populace  in  peace  ;  and  so  on 
the  holy  circle  spread  from  household,  hamlet,  town, — 
till,  all  combined,  as  one  country  under  one  earl,  the 
warriors  fought  under  the  eyes  of  their  own  kinsfolk, 
friends,  neighbors,  chosen  chiefs  !  What  wonder  that 
they  were  brave  ? 

The  second  division  comprised  Harold's  house-carles, 
or  body-guard,  —  the  veterans  especially  attached  to  his 
family, — the  companions  of  his  successful  wars, — a  select 
band  of  the  martial  East-Anglians,  —  the  soldiers  sup- 
plied by  London  and  Middlesex,  and  who,  both  in  arms, 
discipline,  martial  temper,  and  athletic  habits,  ranked 
high  among  the  most  stalwart  of  the  troops,  mixed  as 
their  descent  was,  from  the  warlike  Dane  and  the  sturdy 
Saxon.  In  this  division,  too,  was  comprised  the  reserve. 
And  it  was  all  encompassed  by  the  palisades  and  breast- 
works, to  which  were  but  three  sorties  whence  the  de- 
fenders might  sally,  or  through  which  at  need  the  van 


HAROLD.  325 

guard  might  secure  a  retreat.  All  the  heavy-arim'7  had 
mail  and  shields  similar  to  the  Normans,  though  iome 
what  less  heavy  ;  the  light-armed  had  some  tun'.es  of 
quilted  linen,  some  of  hide  ;  helmets  of  the  last  material, 
spears,  javelins,  swords,  and  clubs.  But  the  main  arm 
of  the  host  was  in  the  great  shield  and  the  great  axe 
wielded  by  men  larger  in  stature  and  stronger  of  muscle 
than  the  majority  of  the  Normans,  whose  physical  raco 
had  deteriorated  partly  by  intermarriage  with  the  mo*e 
delicate  Frank,  partly  by  the  haughty  disdain  of  foot- 
exercise. 

Mounting  a  swift  and  light  steed,  intended  not  for 
encounter  (for  it  was  the  custom  of  English  kings  to 
fight  on  foot,  in  token  that  where  they  fought  there  was 
no  retreat),  but  to  bear  the  rider  rapidly  from  line  to 
line,*  King  Harold  rode  to  the  front  of  the  van  guard ; 
— his  brothers  by  his  side.  His  head,  like  his  great  foe's, 
was  bare,  nor  could  there  be  a  more  striking  contrast 
than  that  of  the  broad  unwrinkled  brow  of  the  Saxon, 
with  his  fair  locks,  the  sign  of  royalty  and  freedom,  parted 
and  falling  over  the  collar  of  mail,  the  clear  and  stead- 
fast eye  of  blue,  the  cheek  somewhat  hollowed  by  kingly 
cares,  but  flushed  now  with  manly  pride  —  the  form  stal- 
wart and  erect,  but  spare  in  its  graceful  symmetry,  and 
void  of  all  that  theatric  pomp  of  bearing  which  was 
assumed  by  William — no  greater  contrast  could  there  be 

*  Thus,  when  at  the  battle  of  Barnet,  Earl  Warwick,  the  king- 
maker, slew  his  horse  and  fought  on  foot,  he  followed  the  old 
traditional  custom  of  Saxon  chiefs. 

II.  —  28 


326  HAROLD. 

than  that  which  the  simple,  earnest  hero-king  presented 
to  the  brow  farrowed  with  harsh  ire  and  politic  wile,  the 
shaven  hair  of  monastic  affectation,  the  dark,  sparkling 
tiger  eye,  and  the  vast  proportions  that  awed  the  gaze 
in  the  port  and  form  of  the  imperious  Norman.  Deep 
and  loud  and  hearty  as  the  shout  with  which  his  arma- 
ments had  welcomed  William,  was  that  which  now  greeted 
the  king  of  the  English  host :  and  clear  and  full  and  prac- 
tised in  the  storm  of  popular  assemblies,  went  his  voice 
down  the  listening  lines. 

"  This  day,  O  friends  and  Englishmen,  sons  of  our 
common  land — this  day  ye  fight  for  liberty.  The  count 
of  the  Normans  hath,  I  know,  a  mighty  army  ;  I  dis- 
guise not  its  strength.  That  army  he  hath  collected 
together,  by  promising  to  each  man  a  share  in  the  spoils 
of  England.  Already,  in  his  court  and  his  camp,  he 
hath  parcelled  out  the  lands  of  this  kingdom  ;  and  fierce 
are  the  robbers  who  fight  for  the  hope  of  plunder  !  But 
he  cannot  offer  to  his  greatest  chief  boons  nobler  than 
those  I  offer  to  my  meanest  freeman — liberty,  and  right, 
and  law,  in  the  soil  of  his  fathers  !  Ye  have  heard  of 
the  miseries  endured  in  the  old  time  under  the  Dane,  but 
they  were  slight  indeed  to  those  which  ye  may  expect 
from  the  Norman.  The  Dane  was  kindred  to  us  in  lan- 
guage and  in  law,  and  who  now  can  tell  Saxon  from 
Dane  ?  But  yon  men  would  rule  ye  in  a  language  ye 
know  not,  by  a  law  that  claims  the  crown  as  the  right 
of  the  sword,  and  divides  the  land  among  the  hirelings 
of  an  army.     We  baptized  the  Dane,  and  the  Church 


HAROLD.  327 

tamed  his  fierce  soul  into  peace ;  but  yon  men  make  the 
Church  itself  their  ally,  and  march  to  carnage  under  the 
banner  profaned  to  the  foulest  of  human  wrongs  !  Out- 
scourings  of  all  nations,  they  come  against  you  !  Ye 
fight  as  brothers  under  the  eyes  of  your  fathers  and 
chosen  chiefs  ;  ye  fight  for  the  women  ye  would  save  from 
the  ravisher ;  ye  fight  for  the  children  ye  would  guard 
from  eternal  bondage  ;  ye  fight  for  the  altars  which  yon 
banner  now  darkens  !  Foreign  priest  is  a  tyrant  as  ruth- 
less and  stern  as  ye  shall  find  foreign  baron  and  king  ! 
Let  no  man  dream  of  retreat;  every  inch  of  ground  that 
ye  yield  is  the  soil  of  your  native  land.  For  me,  on  this 
field  I  peril  all.  Think  that  mine  eye  is  upon  you  wher- 
ever ye  are.  If  a  line  waver  or  shrink,  ye  shall  hear  in 
the  midst  the  voice  of  your  king.  Hold  fast  to  your 
ranks,  remember,  such  amongst  you  as  fought  with  me 
against  Hardrada,  —  remember  that  it  was  not  till  the 
Norsemen  lost,  by  rash  sallies,  their  serried  array,  that 
our  arms  prevailed  against  them.  Be  warned  by  their 
fatal  error,  break  not  the  form  of  the  battle  ;  and  T  tell 
you  on  the  faith  of  a  soldier  who  never  yet  hath  left  field 
without  victory,  —  that  ye  cannot  be  beaten.  While  I 
speak,  the  winds  swell  the  sails  of  the  Norse  ships,  bear- 
ing home  the  corpse  of  Hardrada.  Accomplish  this  day 
the  last  triumph  of  England  ;  add  to  these  hills  a  new 
mount  of  the  conquered  dead  !  And  when,  in  far  times 
and  strange  lands,  scald  and  scop  shall  praise  the  brave 
man  for  some  valiant  deed  wrought  in  some  holy  cause, 
tney  shall  say,  '  He  was  brave  as  those  who  fought  by  the 


328  HAROLD. 

side  of  Harold,  ani  swept  from  the  sward  of  England  the 
hosts  of  the  haughty  Norman. ' " 

Scarcely  had  the  rapturous  hurrahs  of  the  Saxons 
closed  on  this  speech,  when  full  in  sight,  north-west  cf 
Hastings,  came  the  first  division  of  the  invader. 

Harold  remained  gazing  at  them,  and  not  seeing  the 
other  sections  in  movement,  said  to  Gurth,  "  If  these  are 
all  that  they  venture  out,  the  day  is  ours." 

"  Look  yonder  !  "  said  the  sombre  Haco,  and  he  pointed 
to  the  long  array  that  now  gleamed  from  the  wood  through 
which  the  Saxon  kinsmen  had  passed  the  night  before  ; 
and  scarcely  were  these  cohorts  in  view,  than  lo  !  from  a 
third  quarter  advanced  the  glittering  knighthood  under 
the  duke.  All  three  divisions  came  on  in  simultaneous 
assault,  two  on  either  wing  of  the  Saxon  vanguard,  the 
third  (the  Norman)  towards  the  entrenchments. 

In  the  midst  of  the  duke's  cohort  was  the  sacred  gon- 
fanon,  and  in  front  of  it  and  of  the  whole  line,  rode  a 
strange  warrior  of  gigantic  height.  And  as  he  rode,  the 
warrior  sang, — 

"Chanting  loud  the  lusty  strain 
Of  Roland  and  of  Charlemain, 
And  the  dead,   who,   deathless  all, 
Fell  at  famous  Roncesval."  * 

*  Devant  li  Dus  alout  cantant 
De  Karlemaine  e  de  Rollant, 
Ed  'Olever  e  des  Vassalls  - 
Ki  morurent  en  Ronchevals. 

Roman  de  Rou,  Part  ii.  1.  13,  151. 
Much  research  has  been  made  by  French  antiquaries,  to  discover 
the  old  Chant  de  Roland,  but  in  vain. 


HAROLD.,  399 

And  the  knights,  no  longer  singing  hymn  and  litany, 
swelled,  hoarse  through  their  helmets,  the  martial  chorus. 
This  warrior,  in  front  of  the  duke  and  the  horsemen, 
seemed  beside  himself  with  the  joy  of  battle.  As  he  rode, 
and  as  he  chanted,  he  threw  up  his  sword  in  the  air  like 
a  gleeman,  catching  it  nimbly  as  it  fell,*  and  flourishing 
it  wildly,  till,  as  if  unable  to  restrain  his  fierce  exhilara- 
tion, he  fairly  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and,  dashing  for- 
ward to  the  very  front  of  a  detachment  of  Saxon  riders, 
shouted, — 

"A  Taillefer  !  a  Taillefer  !  "  and  by  voice  and  gesture 
challenged  forth  some  one  to  single  combat. 

A  fiery  young  thegn  who  knew  the  Romance  tongue, 
started  forth  and  crossed  swords  with  the  poet ;  but  by 
what  seemed  rather  a  juggler's  sleight  of  hand  than  a 
knight's  fair  fence,  Taillefer,  again  throwing  up  and  catch- 
ing his  sword  with  incredible  rapidity,  shore  the  unhappy 
Saxon  from  the  helm  to  the  chine,  and  riding  over  his 
corpse,  shouting  and  laughing,  he  again  renewed  his  chal- 
lenge. A  second  rode  forth  and  shared  the  same  fate. 
The  rest  of  the  English  horsemen  stared  at  each  other 
aghast ;  the  shouting,  singing,  juggling  giant  seemed  to 
them  not  knight,  but  demon  ;  and  that  single  incident 
preliminary  to  all  other  battle,  in  sight  of  the  whole  field, 
might  have  sufficed  to  damp  the  ardor  of  the  English, 
had  not  Leofwine,  who  had  been  despatched  by  the  king 
with  a  message  to  the  entrenchments,  come  in  front  of  the 

*  W.  Pict.   Chron.  de  Nor 
28* 


330  HAROLD. 

detachment ;  and  his  gay  spirit,  roused  and  stung  by  the 
insolence  of  the  Norman,  and  the  evident  dismay  of  the 
Saxon  riders,  without  thought  of  his  graver  duties,  he 
spurred  his  light  half-mailed  steed  to  the  Norman  giant ; 
and,  not  even  drawing  his  sword,  but  with  his  spear  raised 
over  his  head,  and  his  form  covered  by  his  shield,  he  cried 
in  Romance  tongue,  "  Go  and  chant  to  the  foul  fiend,  0 
croaking  minstrel ! "  Taillefer  rushed  forward,  his  sword 
shivered  on  the  Saxon  shield,  and  in  the  same  moment  he 
fell  a  corpse  under  the  hoofs  of  his  steed,  transfixed  by 
the  Saxon  spear. 

A  cry  of  woe,  in  which  even  William  (who  proud  of 
his  poet's  achievements,  had  pressed  to  the  foremost  line 
to  see  this  new  encounter)  joined  his  deep  voice,  wailed 
through  the  Norman  ranks;  while  Leofwiue  rode  de- 
liberately towards  them,  halted  a  moment,  and  then  flung 
his  spear  into  the  midst  with  so  deadly  an  aim,  that  a 
young  knight,  within  two  of  William,  reeled  on  his  sad- 
dle, groaned,  and  fell. 

"  How  like  ye,  0  Normans,  the  Saxon  gleemen  ?"  said 
Leofwine,  as  he  turned  slowly,  regained  the  detachment, 
and  bade  them  heed  carefully  the  orders  they  had  received, 
viz.,  to  avoid  the  direct  charge  of  the  Norman  horse,  but 
to  take  every  occasion  to  harass  and  divert  the  stragglers  ; 
and  then  blithely  singing  a  Saxon  stave,  as  if  inspired  by 
Norman  minstrelsy,  he  rode  into  the  entrenchments. 


HAROLD.  331 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

The  two  brethren  of  Waltham,  Osgood  and  Ailred, 
had  arrived  a  little  after  daybreak  at  the  spot  in  which, 
about  half  a  mile  to  the  rear  of  Harold's  palisades,  the 
beasts  of  burden  that  had  borne  the  heavy  arms,  missiles, 
luggage,  and  forage  of  the  Saxon  march,  were  placed  in 
and  about  the  fenced  yards  of  a  farm.  And  many  human 
beings,  of  both  sexes  and  various  ranks,  were  there  as- 
sembled, some  in  breathless  expectation,  some  in  careless 
talk,  some  in  fervent  prayer. 

The  master  of  the  farm,  his  sons,  and  the  able-bodied 
ceorls  in  his  employ,  had  joined  the  forces  of  the  king, 
under  Gurth,  as  earl  of  the  county.*  But  many  aged 
theowes,  past  military  service,  and  young  children,  grouped 
around  :  the  first,  stolid  and  indifferent  —  the  last,  prat- 
tling, curious,  lively,  gay.  There,  too,  were  the  wives  of 
some  of  the  soldiers,  who,  as  common  in  Saxon  expe- 
ditions, had  followed  their  husbands  to  the  field  ;  and 
there,  too,  were  the  ladies  of  many  a  Hlaford  in  the  neigh- 
boring district,  who,  no  less  true  to  their  mates  than  the 

*  For,  as  Sir  F.  Palgrave  shrewdly  conjectures,  upon  the  dis- 
memberment of  the  vast  earldom  of  Wessex,  on  Harold's  accession 
to  the  throne,  that  portion  of  it  comprising  Sussex  (the  old  govern- 
ment of  his  grandfather  Wolnoth),  seems  to  have  been  assigned  to 
Gurth. 


839  iiarold. 

wives  of  humbler  men,  were  drawn  by  their  English  hearts 
to  the  fatal  spot.  A  small  wooden  chapel,  half-decayed, 
stood  a  little  behind,  with  its  doors  wide  open,  a  sanc- 
tuary in  case  of  need  ;  and  the  interior  was  thronged 
with  kneeling  suppliants. 

The  two  monks  joined,  with  pious  gladness,  some  of 
their  sacred  calling,  who  were  leaning  over  the  low  wall, 
and  straining  their  eyes  towards  the  bristling  field.  A 
little  apart  from  them,  and  from  all,  stood  a  female ;  -the 
hood  drawn  over  her  face,  silent  in  her  unknown  thoughts. 

By  and  by,  as  the  march  of  the  Norman  multitude 
sounded  hollow,  and  the  trumps,  and  the  fifes,  and  the 
shouts  rolled  on  through  the  air,  in  many  a  stormy  peal, 
—  the  two  abbots  in  the  Saxon  camp,  with  their  attend- 
ant monks,  came  riding  towards  the  farm  from  the  en- 
trenchments. 

The  groups  gathered  round  these  new  comers  in  haste 
and  eagerness. 

11  The  battle  hath  begun,"  said  the  abbot  of  Hide, 
gravely.  "  Pray  God  for  England,  for  never  was  its 
people  in  peril  so  great  from  man." 

The  female  started  and  shuddered  at  those  words. 

"And  the  king,  the  king,"  she  cried,  in  a  sudden  and 
thrilling  voice;   "where  is  he?  —  the  king?" 

"  Daughter,"  said  the  abbot,  "  the  king's  post  is  by  his 
standard  ;  but  I  left  him  in  the  van  of  his  troops.  Where 
he  may  be  now,  I  know  not.  Wherever  the  foe  presses 
sorest." 

Then  dismounting,  the  abbots  entered  the  yard,  to  be 


HAROLD.  333 

accosted  instantly  by  all  the  wives,  who  deemed,  poor 
souls,  that  the  holy  men  must,  throughout  all  the  field, 
have  seen  their  lords  ;  for  each  felt  as  if  God's  world  hung 
but  on  the  single  life  in  which  each  pale  trembler  lived. 

With  all  their  faults  of  ignorance  and  superstition,  the 
Saxon  churchmen  loved  their  flocks  ;  and  the  good  abbots 
gave  what  comfort  was  in  their  power,  and  then  passed 
into  the  chapel,  where  all  who  could  find  room  followed 
them. 

The  war  now  raged. 

The  two  divisions  of  the  invading  army  that  included 
the  auxiliaries,  had  sought  in  vain  to  surround  the  Eng- 
lish vanguard,  and  take  it  in  the  rear :  that  noble  pha- 
lanx had  no  rear.  Deepest  and  strongest  at  the  base  of 
the  triangle,  everywhere  a  front  opposed  the  foe  ;  shields 
formed  a  rampart  against  the  dart  —  spears  a  palisade 
against  the  horse.  While  that  vanguard  maintained  its 
ground,  William  could  not  pierce  to  the  entrenchments, 
the  strength  of  which,  however,  he  was  enabled  to  per- 
ceive. He  now  changed  his  tactics,  joined  his  knighthood 
to  the  other  sections,  threw  his  hosts  rapidly  into  many 
wings,  and  leaving  broad  spaces  between  his  archers  — 
who  continued  their  fiery  hail — ordered  his  heavy-armed 
foot  to  advance  on  all  sides  upon  the  wedge,  and  break 
its  ranks  for  the  awaiting  charge  of  his  horse. 

Harold,  still  in  the  centre  of  the  vanguard,  amidst  the 
men  of  Kent,  continued  to  animate  them  all  with  voice 
and  hand ;  and,  as  the  JSTormans  now  closed  in,  he  flung 


334  HAROLD. 

himself  from  his  steed,  and  strode  on  foot,  with  his  mighty 
battle-axe,  to  the  spot  where  the  rush  was  dreadest. 

Now  came  the  shock  —  the  fight  hand  to  hand  :  spear 
and  lance  were  thrown  aside,  axe  and  sword  rose  and 
shore.  But  before  the  close-serried  lines  of  the  English, 
with  their  physical  strength,  and  veteran  practice  in  their 
own  special  arm,  the  Norman  foot  were  mowed  as  by  the 
scythe.  In  vain,  in  the  intervals,  thundered  the  repeated 
charges  of  the  fiery  knights;  in  vain,  —  throughout  all, 
came  the  shaft  and  the  bolt. 

Animated  by  the  presenee  of  their  king,  fighting 
amongst  them  as  a  simple  soldier,  but  with  his  eye  ever 
quick  to  foresee,  his  voice  ever  prompt  to  warn,  the  men 
of  Kent  swerved  not  a  foot  from  their  indomitable  ranks. 
The  Norman  infantry  wavered  and  gave  way ;  on,  step 
by  step,  still  unbroken  in  array,  pressed  the  English. 
And  their  cry,  "  Out  !  out !  Holy  Crosse  ! "  rose  high 
above  the  flagging  sound  of  "  Ha  Ilou  !  Ha  Rou  ! — - 
Notre  Dame  I" 

"Per  la  resplendar  De,"  cried  William.  "Our  sol- 
diers are  but  women  in  the  garb  of  Normans.  Ho,  spears 
to  the  rescue  !  With  me  to  the  charge,  Sires  D'Aumale 
and  De  Littain  —  with  me,  gallant  Bruse  and  De  Mor- 
tain  ;  with  me,  De  Graville  and  Grantmesnil — Dex  aide  ! 
Notre  Dame."  And  heading  his  prowest  knights,  Wil- 
liam came,  as  a  thunderbolt,  on  the  bills  and  shields. 
Harold,  who  scarce  a  minute  before  had  been  in  a  remo- 
ter rank,  was  already  at  the  brunt  of  that  charge.  At 
his  word  down  knelt  the  foremost  line,  leaving  nought 


HAROLD.  335 

but  their  shields  and  their  spear-points  against  the  horse. 
While  behind  them,  the  axe  in  both  hands,  bent  forward 
the  soldiery  in  the  second  rank,  to  smite  and  to  crush. 
And,  from  the  core  of  the  wedge,  poured  the  shafts  of 
the  archers.  Down  rolled  in  the  dust  half  the  charge  of 
those  knights.  Bruse  reeled  on  his  saddle;  the  dread 
right-hand  of  D'Aumale  fell  lopped  by  the  axe  ;  De  Gra- 
ville,  hurled  from  his  horse,  rolled  at  the  feet  of  Harold ; 
and  William,  borne  by  his  great  steed  and  his  colossal 
strength  into  the  third  rank — there  dealt,  right  and  left, 
the  fierce  strokes  of  his  iron  club,  till  he  felt  his  horse 
sinking  under  him  —  and  had  scarcely  time  to  back  from 
the  foe — scarcely  time  to  get  beyond  reach  of  their  wea- 
pons, ere  the  Spanish  destrier,  frightfully  gashed  through 
its  strong  mail,  fell  dead  on  the  plain.  His  knights 
swept  round  him.  Twenty  barons  leapt  from  selle  to 
yield  him  their  chargers.  He  chose  the  one  nearest  to 
hand,  sprang  to  foot  and  to  stirrup,  and  rode  back  to  his 
lines  Meanwhile  De  Graville's  casque,  its  strings  broken 
by  the  shock,  had  fallen  off,  and  as  Harold  was  about  to 
strike,  he  recognized  his  guest. 

Holding  up  his  hand  to  keep  off  the  press  of  his  men, 
the  generous  king  said  briefly — "  Rise  and  retreat ! — no 
time  on  this  field  for  captor  and  captive.  He  whom  thou 
hast  called  recreant  knight,  has  been  Saxon  host.  Thou 
hast  fought  by  his  side,  thou  shalt  not  die  by  his  hand ! 
—  Go." 

Not  a  word  spoke  De  Graville  ;  but  his  dark  eye  dwel. 
one  minute  with  mingled  pity  and  reverence  on  the  king; 


336  HAROLb. 

then  rising,  he  turned  away ;  and  slowly,  as  if  he  dis- 
dained to  fly,  strode  back  over  the  corpses  of  his  coun- 
trymen. 

"  Stay,  all  hands  !  "  cried  the  king  to  his  archers  ;  "  yon 
man  hath  tasted  our  salt,  and  done  us  good  service  of 
old.     He  hath  paid  his  weregeld." 

Not  a  shaft  was  discharged. 

Meanwhile,  the  Norman  infantry,  who  had  been  before 
recoiling,  no  sooner*  saw  their  duke  (whom  they  recog- 
nized by  his  steed  and  equipment)  fall  on  the  ground, 
than,  setting  up  a  shout — "  The  duke  is  dead!"  they 
fairly  turned  round,  and  fled  fast  in  disorder. 

The  fortune  of  the  day  was  now  well-nigh  turned  in 
favor  of  the  Saxons  ;  and  the  confusion  of  the  Normans, 
as  the  cry  of  "  The  duke  is  dead  !  "  reached,  and  circled 
round,  the  host,  would  have  been  irrecoverable,  had  Ha- 
rold possessed  a  cavalry  fit  to  press  the  advantage  gained, 
or  had  not  William  himself  rushed  into  the  midst  of  the 
fugitives,  throwing  his  helmet  back  on  his  neck,  showing 
his  face,  all  animated  with  fierce  valor  and  disdainful 
wrath,  while  he  cried  aloud  — 

"I  live,  ye  varlets  !  Behold  the  face  of  a  chief  who 
never  yet  forgave  coward  !  Ay,  tremble  more  at  me  than 
at  yon  English,  doomed  and  accursed  as  they  be  !  Ye 
Normans,  ye  !  I  blush  for  you  !  "  and  striking  the  fore- 
most in  the  retreat  with  the  flat  of  his  sword,  chiding, 
stimulating,  threatening,  promising  in  a  breath,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  staying  the  flight,  re-forming  the  lines,  and  dis- 
pelling the  genera]  panic.     Then,  as  he  joined  his  own 


HAROLD.  337 

chosen  knights,  and  surveyed  the  field,  he  beheld  an  open- 
ing which  the  advanced  position  of  the  Saxon  vanguard 
had  left,  and  by  which  his  knights  might  gain  the  en- 
trenchments. He  mused  a  moment,  his  face  still  bare, 
and  brightening  as  he  mused.  Looking  round  him,  he 
saw  Mallet  de  Graville,  who  had  remounted,  and  said 
shortly, 

"Pardex,  dear  knight,  we  thought  you  already  with 
St.  Michael !  joy,  that  you  live  yet  to  be  an  English  earl. 
Look  you,  ride  to  Fitzosborne  with  the  signal-word,  lLi 
Hardiz  passent  avant/J     Off,   and  quick." 

De  Graville  bowed,  and  darted  across  the  plain. 

"Now,  my  quens  and  chevaliers,"  said  William,  gaily, 
as  he  closed  bis  helmet,  and  took  from  his  squire  another 
spear;  "now,  I  shall  give  ye  the  day's  great  pastime. 
Pass  the  word,  Sire  de  Tancarville,  to  every  horseman  — 
f  Charge  !  —to  the  Standard  V" 

The  word  passed,  the  steeds  bounded,  and  the  whole 
force  of  William's  knighthood,  scouring  the  plain  to  the 
rear  of  the  Saxon  vanguard,  made  for  the  entrenchments. 

At  that  sight,  Harold,  divining  the  object,  and  seeing 
this  new  and  more  urgent  demand  on  his  presence,  halted 
the  battalions  over  which  he  had  presided,  and,  yielding 
the  command  to  Leofwine,  once  more  briefly  but  strenu- 
ously enjoined  the  troops  to  heed  well  their  leaders,  and 
on  no  account  to  break  the  wedge,  in  the  form  of  which 
lay  their  whole  strength,  both  against  the  cavalry  and  the 
greater  number  of  the  foe.  Then  mounting  his  horse, 
and  attended  only  by  Haco,  he  spurred  across  the  plain, 

II.  — 29  2v 


338  HAROLD. 

iu  the  opposite  direction  to  that  taken  by  tjie  Normans. 
In  doing  so,  he  was  forced  to  make  a  considerable  circuit 
towards  the  rear  of  the  entrenchment,  and  the  farm,  with 
its  watchful  groups,  came  in  sight.  He  distinguished  the 
garbs  of  the  women,  and  Haco  said  to  him  — 

"There  wait  the  wives,  to  welcome  the  living  victors." 

"Or  search  their  lords  among  the  dead!"  answered 
Harold.     "  Who,  Haco,  if  we  fall,  will  search  for  us  ?" 

As  the  word  left  his  lips,  he  saw,  under  a  lonely  thorn- 
tree,  and  scarce  out  of  bow-shot  from  the  entrenchments, 
a  woman  seated.  The  king  looked  hard  at  the  bended, 
hooded  form. 

"Poor  wretch  ! "  he  murmured,  "her  heart  is  in  the 
battle  ! "  And  he  shouted  aloud,  "  Farther  off !  farther 
off! — the  war  rushes  hitherward  !  " 

At  the  sound  of  that  voice  the  woman  rose,  stretched 
her  arms,  and  sprang  forward.  But  the  Saxon  chiefs 
had  already  turned  their  faces  towards  the  neighboring 
ingress  into  the  ramparts,  and  beheld  not  her  movement, 
while  the  tramp  of  rushing  chargers,  the  shout  and  the 
roar  of  clashing  war,  drowned  the  wail  of  her  feeble  cry. 

"  I  have  heard  him  again,  again  ! "  murmured  the 
woman,  "  God  be  praised  !  "  and  she  reseated  herself 
quietly  under  the  lonely  thorn. 

As  Harold  and  Haco  sprang  to  their  feet  within  the 
entrenchments,  the  shout  of  "the  king  —  the  king!  — 
Holy  Crosse  ! "  came  in  time  to  rally  the  force  at  the 
farther  end,  now  undergoing  the  full  storm  of  the  Nor 
man  chivalry. 


HAROLD.  339 

The  willow  ramparts  were  already  rent  and  hewed 
beneath  the  hoofs  of  horses  and  the  clash  of  swords  ;  and 
the  sharp  points  on  the  frontals  of  the  Norman  destriers 
were  already  gleaming  within  the  entrenchments,  when 
Harold  arrived  at  the  brunt  of  action.  The  tide  was 
then  turned  ;  not  one  of  those  rash  riders  left  the  en- 
trenchments they  had  gained ;  steel  and  horse  alike  went 
down  beneath  the  ponderous  battle-axes  ;  and  William, 
again  foiled  and  baffled,  drew  off  his  cavalry  with  the 
reluctant  conviction  that  those  breast-works,  so  manned, 
were  not  to  be  won  by  horse.  Slowly  the  knights  re 
treated  down  the  slope  of  the  hillock,  and  the  English, 
animated  by  that  sight,  would  have  left  their  strong-hold 
to  pursue,  but  for  the  warning  cry  of  Harold.  TIip 
interval  in  the  strife  thus  gained  was  promptly  and  vigor- 
ously employed  in  repairing  the  palisades.  And  this 
done,  Harold,  turning  to  Haco  and  the  thegns  round  him, 
said,  joyously  — 

"  By  Heaven's  help  we  shall  yet  win  this  day.  And 
know  you  not  that  it  is  my  fortunate  clay  —  the  day  on 
which,  hitherto,  all  hath  prospered  with  me  in  peace  and 
in  war  —  the  day  of  my  birth?" 

"Of  your  birth!"  echoed  Haco,  in  surprise. 

"Ay  —  did  you  not  know  it?" 

"Nay  ! — strange  ! — it  is  also  the  birth-day  of  Duke 
William  !  What  would  astrologers  say  to  the  meeting 
of  such  stars  ?  "  * 

*  Harold's  birth-day  was  certainly  the  14th  of  October.  Accord- 
ing to  Mr.  Roscoe,  in  his  life  of  "William  the  Conqueror,"  William 
was  born  also  oh  the  14th  of  October. 


840  HAROLD. 

Harold's  cheek  paled,  but  his  helmet  concealed  the 
paleness ;  his  arm  drooped.  The  strange  dream  of  his 
youth  again  came  distinct  before  him,  as  it  had  come  in 
the  hall  of  the  Norman  at  the  sight  of  the  ghastly  relics 
! — again  he  saw  the  shadowy  hand  from  the  cloud  — 
again  heard  the  voice  murmuring  —  "Lo  !  the  star  that 
shone  on  the  birth  of  the  victor ;  M  again  he  heard  the 
words  of  Hilda  interpreting  the  dream — again  the  chant 
which  the  dead  or  the  fiend  had  poured  from  the  rigid 
lips  of  the  Yala.  It  boomed  on  his  ear :  hollow  as  a 
death-bell  it  knelled  through  the  roar  of  battle  — 

"  Never 

Crown  and  brow  shall  Force  dissever, 

Till  the  dead  men,  unforgiving, 

Loose  the  war- steeds  on  the  living; 

Till  a  sun  whose  race  is  ending, 

Sees  the  rival  stars  contending, 

Where  the  dead  men,  unforgiving, 

Wheel  their  war-steeds  round  the  living!" 

Faded  the  vision,  and  died  the  chant,  as  a  breath  that 
dims,  and  vanishes  from,  the  mirror  of  steel.  The  breath 
was  gone  —  the  firm  steel  was  bright  once  more;  and 
suddenly  the  king  was  recalled  to  the  sense  of  the  present 
hour  by  shouts  and  cries,  in  which  the  yell  of  Norman 
triumph  predominated,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  field. 
The  signal-words  to  Fitzosborne  had  conveyed  to  that 
chief  the  order  for  the  mock  charge  on  the  Saxon  van- 
guard, to  be  followed  by  the  feigned  flight;  and  so  art- 
fully had  this  stratagem  been  practised,  that  despite  all 
the  solemn  orders  of  Harold,  despite  even  the  warning 


HAROLD.  341 

cry  of  Leofwine  who,  rash  and  gay-hearted  though  he 
was,  had  yet  a  captain's  skill  —  the  bold  English,  their 
blood  heated  by  long  contest  and  seeming  victory,  could 
not  resist  pursuit.  They  rushed  forward  impetuously, 
breaking  the  order  of  their  hitherto  indomitable  phalanx, 
and  the  more  eagerly  because  the  Normans  had  unwit- 
tingly taken  their  way  towards  a  part  of  the  ground  con- 
cealing dykes  and  ditches,  into  which  the  English  trusted 
to  precipitate  the  foe.  It  was  as  William's  knights  re- 
treated from  the  breast-works  that  this  fatal  error  was 
committed  ;  and  pointing  towards  the  disordered  Saxons 
with  a  wild  laugh  of  revengeful  joy,  William  set  spurs  to 
his  horse,  and,  followed  by  all  his  chivalry,  joined  the 
cavalry  of  Poitou  and  Boulogne  in  their  swoop  upon  the 
scattered  array.  Already  the  Norman  infantry  had  turned 
round  —  already  the  horses,  that  lay  in  ambush  amongst 
the  brushwood  near  the  dykes,  had  thundered  forth.  The 
whole  of  the  late  impregnable  vanguard  was  broken  up 
—  divided  corps  from  corps  —  hemmed  in;  horse  after 
horse  charging  to  the  rear,  to  the  front,  to  the  flank,  to 
the  right,  to  the  left. 

Gurth,  with  the  men  of  Surrey  and  Sussex  had  alone 
kept  their  ground,  but  they  were  now  compelled  to  ad- 
vance to  the  aid  of  their  scattered  comrades  ;  and  coming 
up  in  close  order,  they  not  only  awhile  stayed  the 
slaughter,  but  again  half  turned  the  day.  Knowing  the 
country  thoroughly,  Gurth  lured  the  foe  into  the  ditches 
concealed  within  a  hundred  yards  of  their  own  ambush, 
and  there  the  havoc  of  the  foreigners  was  so  great,  that 
29* 


342  HAROLD. 

the  hollows  are  said  to  have  been  literally  made  level  with 
the  plain  by  their  corpses.  Yet  this  combat,  however 
fierce,  and  however  skill  might  seek  to  repair  the  former 
error,  could  not  be  long  maintained  against  such  disparity 
of  numbers.  And  meanwhile  the  whole  of  the  division 
under  Geoffroi  Martel,  and  his  co-captains,  had  by  a 
fresh  order  of  William's,  occupied  the  space  between  the 
entrenchments  and  the  more  distant  engagement ;  thus 
when  Harold  looked  up,  he  saw  the  foot  of  the  hillocks 
so  lined  with  steel,  as  to  render  it  hopeless  that  he  him- 
self could  win  to  the  aid  of  his  vanguard.  He  set  his 
teeth  firmly,  looked  on,  and  only  by  gesture  and  smothered 
exclamations  showed  his  emotions  of  hope  and  fear.  At 
length  he  cried,  — 

"  Gallant  Gurth  !  brave  Leofwine,  look  to  their  pen- 
nons ;  right,  right ;  well  fought,  sturdy  Yebba  !  Ha ! 
they  are  moving  this  way.  The  wedge  cleaves  on  —  it 
cuts  its  path  through  the  heart  of  the  foe.'1  And  in- 
deed, the  chiefs  now  drawing  off  the  shattered  remains 
of  their  countrymen,  still  disunited,  but  still  each  section 
shaping  itself  wedge-like,  —  on  came  the  English,  with 
their  shields  over  their  head,  through  the  tempest  of 
missiles,  against  the  rush  of  the  steeds,  here  and  theie, 
through  the  plains,  up  the  slopes,  towards  the  entrench- 
ment, in  the  teeth  of  the  formidable  array  of  Martel,  and 
harassed  by  hosts  that  seemed  numberless.  The  king 
could  restrain  himself  no  longer.  He  selected  five  hun 
dred  of  his  bravest  and  most  practised  veterans,  yet  com 
paratively  fresh,  and  commanding  the*  rest  to  stay  firm, 


HAROLD.  343 

descended  the  hills,  and  charged  unexpectedly  into  the 
rear  of  the  mingled  Normans  and  Britons. 

This  sortie,  well  timed,  though  desperate,  served  to 
cover  and  favor  the  retreat  of  the  straggling  Saxons. 
Many,  indeed,  were  cut  off;  but  Gurth,  Leofwine,  and 
Yebba  hewed  the  way  for  their  followers  to  the  side  of 
Harold,  and  entered  the  entrenchments,  close  followed 
by  the  nearer  foe,  who  were  again  repulsed  amidst  the 
shouts  of  the  English. 

"But,  alas!  small  indeed  the  band  thus  saved,  and 
hopeless  the  thought  that  the  small  detachments  of 
English  still  surviving  and  scattered  over  the  plain,  would 
ever  win  to  their  aid. 

Yet  in  those  scattered  remnants  were,  perhaps,  almost 
the  only  men  who,  availing  themselves  of  their  acquaint- 
ance with  the  country,  and  despairing  of  victory,  escaped 
by  flight  from  the  field  of  Sanguelac.  Nevertheless, 
within  the  entrenchments  not  a  man  had  lost  heart;  the 
day  was  already  far  advanced,  no  impression  had  been 
yet  made  on  the  outworks,  the  position  seemed  as  im- 
pregnable as  a  fortress  of  stone  ;  and,  truth  to  say,  even 
the  bravest  Normans  were  disheartened,  when  they  looked 
to  that  eminence  which  had  foiled  the  charge  of  William 
himself.  The  duke,  in  the  recent  melee,  had  received 
more  than  one  wound,  his  third  horse  that  day  had  been 
slain  under  him.  The  slaughter  among  the  knights  and 
nobles  had  been  immense,  for  they  had  exposed  their  per- 
sons with  the  most  desperate  valor.  And  William,  after 
surveying  the  rout  of  nearly  one-half  of  the  English  army, 


344  HAROLD. 

neard  everywhere,  to  his  wrath  and  his  shame,  murmurs 
of  discontent  and  dismay  at  the  prospect  of  scaling  the 
heights,  in  which  the  gallant  remnant  had  found  their 
refuge.  At  this  critical  juncture,  Odo  of  Bayeux,  who 
had  hitherto  remained  in  the  rear,*  with  the  crowds  of 
monks  that  accompanied  the  armament,  rode  into  the  full 
field,  where  all  the  hosts  were  re-forming  their  lines.  He 
was  in  complete  mail ;  but  a  white  surplice  was  drawn 
over  the  steel,  his  head  was  bare,  and  in  his  right  hand 
he  bore  the  crozier.  A  formidable  club  swung  by  a 
leathern  noose  from  his  wrist,  to  be  used  only  for  self- 
defence  :  the  canons  forbade  the  priest  to  strike  merely 
in  assault. 

Behind  the  milk-white  steed  of  Odo  came  the  whole 
body  of  reserve,  fresh  and  unbreathed,  free  from  the  terrors 
of  their  comrades,  and  stung  into  proud  wrath  at  the 
delay  of  the  Norman  conquest*. 

"How  now  —  hownowl"  cried  the  prelate;  "do  ye 
flag  ?  do  ye  falter  when  the  sheaves  "are  down,  and  ye 
have  but  to  gather  up  the  harvest?  How  now,  sons  of 
the  Church  !  warriors  of  the  Cross  !  avengers  of  the 
Saints  !  Desert  your  count,  if  ye  please  ;  but  shrink  not 
back  from  a  Lord  mightier  than  man.  Lo,  I  come  forth 
to  ride  side  by  side  with  my  brother,  bare-headed,  the 
crozier  in  my  hand.  He  who  fails  his  liege  is  but  a 
coward  —  he  who  fails  the  Church  is  apostate!" 

The  fierce  shout  of  the  reserve  closed  this  harangue, 

*  William  Pict. 


HAROLD.  345 

and  the  words  of  the  prelate,  as  well  as  the  physical  aid 
he  brought  to  back  them,  renerved  the  army.  And  now 
the  whole  of  William's  mighty  host  covering  the  field  till 
its  lines  seemed  to  blend  with  the  grey  horizon,  came  on 
serried,  steadied,  orderly  —  to  all  sides  of  the  entrench- 
ment. Aware  of  the  inutility  of  his  horse  till  the  breast- 
works were  cleared,  William  placed  in  the  van  all  his 
heavy-armed  foot,  spearsmen,  and  archers,  to  open  the 
way  through  the  palisades,  the  sorties  from  which  had 
now  been  carefully  closed. 

As  they  came  up  the  hills,  Harold  turned  to  Haco  and 
said,  "  Where  is  thy  battle-axe  ?  " 

"Harold,"  answered  Haco,  with  more  than  his  usual 
tone  of  sombre  sadness,  "I  desire  now  to  be  thy  shield- 
bearer,  for  thou  must  use  thine  axe  with  both  hands  while 
the  day  lasts  and  thy  shield  is  useless.  Wherefore  thou 
strike  and  I  will  shield  thee'." 

"  Thou  lovest  me  then,  son  of  Sweyn  ;  I  have  some- 
times doubted  it." 

"  I  love  thee  as  the  best  part  of  my  life,  and  with  thy 
life  ceases  mine :  it  is  my  heart  that  my  shield  guards 
when  it  covers  the  breast  of  Harold." 

"  I  would  bid  thee  live,  poor  youth,"  whispered  Ha- 
rold ;  "  but  what  were  life  if  this  day  were  lost  ?  Happy, 
then,  \t ill  be  those  who  die!" 

Scarce  had  the  words. left  his  lips  ere  he  sprang  to  the 
breast-works,  and  with  a  sudden  sweep  of  his  axe  down 
dropped  a  helm  that  peered  above  them.  But  helm  after 
jielm  succeeds.     Now  they  come  on,  swarm  upon  swarm, 

29* 


346  HAROLD. 

as  wolves  on  a  traveller,  as  bears  round  a  bark.  Count- 
less, amidst  their  carnage,  on  they  come  !  The  arrows 
of  the  Norman  blacken  the  air  :  with  deadly  precision  to 
each  arm,  each  limb,  each  front  exposed  above  the  bul- 
warks —  whirrs  the  shaft.  They  clamber  the  palisades, 
the  foremost  fall  dead  under  the  Saxon  axe  ;  now  thou- 
sands rush  on  ;  vain  is  the  might  of  Harold,  vain  had 
been  a  Harold's  might  in  every  Saxon  there  !  The  first 
row  of  breast-works  is  forced  —  it  is  trampled,  hewed, 
crushed  down,  cumbered  with  the  dead.  "  Ha  Rou  !  Ha 
Rou  !  Notre  Dame  !  Notre  Dame  ! "  sounds  joyous  and 
shrill,  the  chargers  snort  and  leap,  and  charge  into  the 
circle.  High  wheels  in  air  the  great  mace  of  William  ; 
bright  by  the  slaughterers  flashes  thecrozierof  the  Church. 

"  On,  Normans  ! — earldom  and  land  !"  cries  the  duke. 

"  On,  sons  of  the  Church  !  Salvation  and  heaven  !  " 
shouts  the  voice  of  Odo. 

The  first  breast-work  down — the  Saxons  yielding  inch 
by  inch,  foot  by  foot,  are  pressed,  crushed  back,  into  the 
second  enclosure.  The  same  rush,  and  swarm,  and  fight, 
and  cry,  and  roar: — the  second  enclosure  gives  way. 
And  now  in  the  centre  of  the  third  —  lo,  before  the  eyes 
of  the  Normans,  towers  proudly  aloft  and  shines  in  the 
rays  of  the  westering  sun,  broidered  with  gold,  and  blaz- 
ing with  mystic  gems,  the  standard  of  England's  king  ! 
And  there  are  gathered  the  reserve  of  the  English  host  , 
there,  the  heroes  who  had  never  yet  known  defeat  —  un- 
wearied they  by  the  battle — vigorous,  high-hearted  still, 
and   round    them   the   breast-works    were    thicker,    aud 


HAROLD.  347 

stronger,  and  higher,  and  fastened  by  chains  to  pillars 
of  wood  and  staves  of  iron,  with  the  wagons  and  carts 
of  the  baggage,  and  piled  logs  of  timber  —  barricades  at 
which  even  William  paused  aghast,  and  Odo  stifled  an 
exclamation  that  became  not  a  priestly  lip. 

Before  that  standard  in  the  front  of  the  men,  stood 
Gurth,  and  Leofwine,  and  Haco,  and  Harold,  the  last 
leaning  for  rest  upon  his  axe,  for  he  was  sorely  wounded 
in  many  places,  and  the  blood  oozed  through  the  links  of 
his  mail.  • 

Live,  Harold  ;  live  yet,  and  Saxon  England  shall  not 
die! 

The  English  archers  had  at  no  time  been  numerous ; 
most  of  them  had  served  with  the  vanguard,  and  the 
shafts  of  those  within  the  ramparts  were  spent ;  so  that 
the  foe  had  time  to  pause  and  to  breathe.  The  Norman 
arrows  meanwhile  flew  fast  and  thick,  but  William  noted 
to  his  grief  that  they  struck  against  the  tall  breast-works 
and  barricades,  and  so  failed  in  the  slaughter  they  should 
inflict. 

He  mused  a  moment  and  sent  one  of  his  knights  to  call 
to  him  three  of  the  chiefs  of  the  archers.  They  were  soon 
at  the  side  of  his  destrier. 

"  See  ye  not,  maladroits,"  said  the  duke,  "that  your 
shafts  and  bolts  fall  harmless  on  those  osier  walls  ?  Shoot 
in  the  air;  let  the  arrow  fall  perpendicular  on  those 
within  — fall  as  the  vengeance  of  the  saints  falls — direct 
from  neaven  !  Give  me  thy  oow,  archer,  —  thus."  He 
drew  the  bow  as  he  sate  on  his  steed,  the  arrow  flashed 


348  HAROLD. 

np  and  descended  in  the  heart  of  the  reserve,  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  standard. 

"So;  that  standard  be  yoar  mark,"  said  the  duke, 
giving  back  the  bow. 

The  archers  withdrew.  The  order  circulated  through 
their  bands,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  down  came  the 
iron  rain.  It  took  the  English  host  as  by  surprise, 
piercing  hide  cap  and  even  iron  helm ;  and  in  the  very 
surprise  that  made  them  instinctively  look  up  —  death 
came. 

A  dull  groan  as  from  many  hearts  boomed  from  the 
entrenchments  on  the  Norman  ear. 

"  Now,"  said  William,  "they  must  either  use  their 
shields  to  guard  their  heads  —  and  their  axes  are  useless 
— or  while  they  smite  with  the  axe  they  fall  by  the  shaft. 
On  now  to  the  ramparts.  I  see  my  crown  already  resting 
on  yonder  standard!" 

Yet  despite  all,  the  English  bear  up;  the  thickness  of 
the  palisades,  the  comparative  smallness  of  the  last  en- 
closure, more  easily  therefore  manned  and  maintained  by 
the  small  force  of  the  survivors,  defy  other  weapons  than 
those  of  the  bow.  Every  Norman  who  attempts  to  scale 
the  breast-work  is  slain  on  the  instant,  and  his  body  cast 
forth  under  the  hoofs  of  the  baffled  steeds.  The  sun  sinks 
near  and  nearer  towards  the  red  horizon 
l  "  Courage  !"  cries  the  voice  of  Harold,  "hold  but  till 
!  nightfall  and  ye  are  saved.     Courage  and  freedom  ! " 

"Harold  and  Holy  Crosse  ! "  is  the  answer. 

Still  foiled,  William  again  resolves  to  hazard  his  fata] 


HAROLD.  349 

stratagem.     He  marked  that   quarter  of  the  enclosure 
which  was  most  remote  from  the  provident  watch  of 
Harold,  whose  cheering  voice  ever  and  anon  he  recognized 
amidst  the  hurtling  clamor.   In  this  quarter  the  palisades 
were  the  weakest  and  the  ground  the  least  elevated ;  but 
it  was  guarded  by  men  on  whose  skill  with  axe  and  shield 
Harold  placed  the  firmest  reliance — the  Anglo-Danes  of 
his  old  East-Anglian  earldom.     Thither,  then,  the  duke 
advanced  a  chosen  column  of  his  heavy-armed  foot,  tu- 
tored especially  by  himself  in  the  rehearsals  of  his  favorite 
ruse,  and  accompanied  by  a  band  of  archers ;  while  at 
the  same  time,  he  himself,  with  his  brother  Odo,  headed 
%  considerable  company  of  knights  under  the  son  of  the 
great  Roger  de  Beaumont,  to  gain  the  contiguous  level 
heights  on  which  now  stretches  the  little  town  of  "Bat- 
tle ;  "  there  to  watch  and  to  aid  the  manoeuvre.  The  foot 
column  advanced  to  the  appointed  spot,  and  after  a  short, 
close,  and  terrible  conflict,  succeeded  in  making  a  wide 
breach  in  the  breast-works.     But  that  temporary  success 
only  animates  yet  more  the  exertions  of  the  beleagured 
defenders,  and  swarming  round  the  breach,  and  pouring 
through  it,  line  after  line  of  the  foe  drop  beneath  their 
axes.     The   column    of  the  heavy-armed   Normans  fall 
back,  down  the  slopes — they  give  way — they  turn  in  dis- 
order— they  retreat — they  fly  ;  but  the  archers  stand  firm, 
midway  on  the  descent — those  archers  seem  an  easy  prey 
to  the  English  —  the  temptation  is    irresistible.     Long 
galled,  and  harassed,  and  maddened  by  the  shafts,  the 
Anglo-Danes  rush  forth   at  the   heels   of  the  Normal 


850  HAROLD. 

swordsmen,  and  sweeping  down  to  exterminate  the  arch- 
ers, the  breach  that  they  leave  gapes  wide. 

"  Forward,"  cries  William,  and  he  gallops  towards  the 
breach. 

"Forward,"  cries  Odo,  "  I  see  the  hands  of  the  holy 
saints  in  the  air  !  Forward  !  it  is  the  dead  that  wheel 
our  war-steeds  round  the  living  ! " 

On  rush  the  Norman  knights.  But  Harold  is  already 
in  the  breach,  rallying  round  him  hearts  eager  to  replace 
the  shattered  breast-works. 

"  Close  shields  !     Hold  fast ! "  shouts  his  kingly  voice. 

Before  him  were  the  steeds  of  Bruse  and  Grantmesnil. 
At  his  breast  their  spears  ; —  Haco  holds  over  the  breast 
the  shield.  Swinging  aloft  with  both  hands  his  axe,  the 
spear  of  Grantmesnil  is  shivered  in  twain  by  the  king's 
stroke.  Cloven  to  the  skull  rolls  the  steed  of  Bruse. 
Knight  and  steed  roll  on  the  bloody  sward. 

But  a  blow  from  the  sword  of  De  Lacy  has  broken 
down  the  guardian  shield  of  Haco.  The  son  of  Sweyn 
is  stricken  to  his  knee.  With  lifted  blades  and  whirling 
maces  the  Norman  knights  charge  through  the  breach. 

"Look  up,  look  up,  and  guard  thy  head,"  cries  the 
fatal  voice  of  Haco  to  the  king. 

At  that  cry,  the  king  raises  his  flashing  eyes.  Why 
halts  his  stride  ?  Why  drops  the  axe  from  his  hand  ? 
As  he  raised  his  head,  down  came  the  hissing  death-shaft. 
It  smote  the  lifted  face  ;  it  crushed  into  the  dauntless 
eye-ball.  He  reeled,  he  staggered,  he  fell  back  several 
yards,  at  the  foot  of  his  gorgeous  standard.     With  des- 


HAROLD.  351 

perate  land  he  broke  the  head  of  the  shaft,  and  left  the 
barb,  quivering  in  the  anguish. 

Gurth  knelt  over  him. 

"Fight  on,"  gasped  the  king;  " conceal  my  death! 
Holy  Crosse  !     England  to  the  rescue  !  woe  —  woe  ! " 

Rallying  himself  a  moment,  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
clenched  his  right  hand,  and  fell  once  more,  —  a  corpse. 

At  the  same  moment  a  simultaneous  rush  of  horsemen 
towards  the  standard  bore  back  a  line  of  Saxons,  and 
covered  the  body  of  the  king  with  heaps  of  the  slain. 

His  helmet  cloven  in  two,  his  face  all  streaming  with 
blood,  but  still  calm  in  its  ghastly  hues,  amidst  the  fore- 
most of  those  slain,  fell  the  fated  IJaco.  He  fell  with 
his  head  on  the  breast  of  Harold,  kissed  the  bloody  cheek 
with  bloody  lips,  groaned,  and  died. 

Inspired  by  despair  with  superhuman  strength,  Gurth 
striding  over  the  corpses  of  his  kinsmen,  opposed  him- 
self singly  to  the  knights  ;  and  the  entire  strength  of  the 
English  remnant,  coming  round  him  at  the  menaced  dan- 
ger to  the  standard,  once  more  drove  off  the  assailants. 

But  now  all  the  enclosure  was  filled  with  the  foe,  the 
whole  space  seemed  gay  in  the  darkening  air  with  ban- 
derols and  banners.  High  through  all  rose  the  club  of 
the  Conqueror;  high  through  all  shone  the  crozier  of  the 
Churchman.  Not  one  Englishman  fled  ;  all  now  center- 
ing round  the  standard,  they  fell,  slaughtering  if  slaugh- 
tered. Man  by  man,  under  the  charmed  banner,  fell  the 
lithsmen  of  Hilda.  Then  died  the  faithful  Saexwolf.  Then 


S5Sa  HAROLD. 

died  the  gallant  Godrith,  redeeming,  by  the  death  of 
many  a  Norman,  his  young  fantastic  love  of  the  Norman 
manners.  Then  died,  last  of  such  of  the  Kent  men  as 
had  won  retreat  from  their  scattered  vanguard  into  the 
circle  of  closing  slaughter, — the  English-hearted  Yebba. 

Even  still  in  that  age,  when  the  Teuton  had  yet  in  his 
veins  the  blood  of  Odin,  the  demi-god,  —  even  still  one 
man  could  delay  the  might  of  numbers.  Through  the 
crowd,  the  Normans  beheld  with  admiring  awe,  —  here, 
in  the  front  of  their  horse,  a  single  warrior,  before  whose 
axe,  spear  shivered,  helm  dropped  ; — there,  close  by  the 
standard,  standing  breast-high  among  the  slain,  one  still 
more  formidable,  and  even  amidst  ruin  unvanquished. 
The  first  fell  at  length  under  the  mace  of  Roger  de 
Montgommeri.  So,  unknown  to  the  Norman  poet  (who 
hath  preserved  in  his  verse  the  deeds  but  not  the  name), 
fell,  laughing  in  death,  young  Leofwine  !  Still  by  the 
enchanted  standard  towers  the  other ;  still  the  enchanted 
standard  waves  aloft,  with  its  brave  ensign  of  the  soli- 
tary "Fighting  Man"  girded  by  the  gems  that  had 
flashed  in  the  crown  of  Odin. 

"  Thine  be  the  honor  of  lowering  that  haughty  flag," 
cried  William,  turning  to  one  of  his  favorite  and  most 
famous  knights,  Robert  de  Tessin. 

Overjoyed,  the  knight  rushed  forth,  to  fall  by  the  axe 
of  that  stubborn  defender. 

"Sorcery,"  cried  Fitzosborne,  "sorcery.  This  is  no 
man,  but  fiend." 


HAROLD.  353 

"  Spare  him,  spare  the  brave,"  cried  in  a  breath  Bruse 
D'Aincourt,  and  De  Graville. 

William  turned  round  in  wrath  at  the  cry  of  mercy, 
and,  spurring  over  all  the  corpses,  with  the  sacred  banner 
borne  by  Tonstain  close  behind'  him,  so  that  it  shadowed 
his  helmet, — he  came  to  the  foot  of  the  standard,  and  for 
one  moment  there  was  single  battle  between  the  knight- 
duke  and  the  Saxon  hero.  Nor,  even  then,  conquered 
by  the  Norman  sword,  but  exhausted  by  a  hundred 
wounds,  that  brave  chief  fell,*  and  the  falchion  vainly 
pierced  him,  falling.  So,  last  man  at  the  standard,  died 
Gurth. 

The  sun  had  set,  the  first  star  was  in  heaven,  tht 
"Fighting  Man"  was  laid  low,  and  on  that  spot  where 
now,  all  forlorn  and  shattered,  amidst  stagnant  water, 
stands  the  altarrstone  of  Battle  Abbey,  rose  the  glitter- 
ing dragon  that  surmounted  the  consecrated  banner  of 
the  Norman  victor. 


*  Thus  Wace  :  — 

"Guert  (Gurth)  vit  Engleiz  ameuuisier, 
Vi  K'il  n'i  ont  nul  recovrier,"  etc. 
"  Gurth  saw  the  English  diminish,  and  that  there  was  no  hope 
to  retrieve  the  day;  the  duke  pushed  forth  with  such  force,  that 
he  reached  him,  and  struck  him  with  great  violence  (par  grant  air). 
I  know  not  if  he  died  by  the  stroke,  but  it  is  said  that  it  laid  him 
low." 

30*  2w 


354  HAROLD, 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Close  by  his  banner,  amidst  the  piles  of  the  dead, 
William  the  Conqueror  pitched  his  pavilion,  and  sate  at 
meat.  And  over  all  the  plain,  far  and  near,  torches  were 
moving  like  meteors  on  a  marsh ;  for  the  duke  had  per- 
mitted the  Saxon  women  to  search  for  the  bodies  of  their 
lords.  And  as  he  sate,  and  talked,  and  laughed,  there 
entered  the  tent  two  humble  monks ;  their  lowly  mien, 
their  dejected  faces,  their  homely  serge,  in  mournful  con- 
trast to  the  joy  and  the  splendor  of  the  Yictory-Feast. 

They  came  to  the  Conqueror,  and  knelt. 

"  Rise  up,  sons  of  the  Church,"  said  William,  mildly, 
"for  sons  of  the  Church  are  we!  Deem  not  that  we 
shall  invade  the  rights  of  the  religion  which  we  have 
come  to  avenge.  Nay,  on  this  spot  we  have  already 
sworn  to  build  an  abbey  that  shall  be  the  proudest  in  the 
land,  and  where  masses  shall  be  sung  evermore  for  the 
repose  of  the  brave  Normans  who  fell  in  this  field,  and 
for  mine  and  my  consort's  soul." 

"  Doubtless,"  said  Odo,  sneering,  "the  holy  men  have 
htard  already  of  this  pious  intent,  and  come  to  pray  for 
cells  in  the  future  abbey." 

"  Not  so,"  said  Osgood,  mournfully,  and  in  barbarous 
Norman ;  "  we  have  our  own  beloved  convent  at  Waltham, 


HAROLD.  355 

endowed  by  the  prince  whom  thine  arms  have  defeated. 
We  come  to  ask  but  to  bury  in  our  sacred  cloisters  the 
corpse  of  him  so  lately  king  over  all  England  —  our 
benefactor,   Harold. " 

The  duke's  brow  fell. 

"And  see,"  said  Aired,  eagerly,  as  he  drew  out  a 
leathern  pouch,  "  we  have  brought  with  us  all  the  gold 
that  our  poor  crypts  contained,  for  we  misdoubted  this 
day  ; "  and  he  poured  out  the  glittering  pieces  at  the 
Conqueror's  feet. 

"  No  !  "  said  William,  fiercely,  "  we  take  no  gold  for  a 
traitor's  body ;  no,  not  if  Githa.  the  usurper's  mother, 
offered  us  its  weight  in  the  shining  metal ;  unburied  be 
the  Accursed  of  the  Church,  and  let  the  birds  of  prey 
feed  their  young  with  his  carcase  ! " 

Two  murmurs,  distinct  in  tone  and  in  meaning,  were 
heard  in  that  assembly ■;  the  one  of  approval  from  fierce 
mercenaries,  insolent  with  triumph  ;  the  other  of  generous 
discontent  and  indignant  amaze,  from  the  large  majority 
of  Norman  nobles. 

But  William's  brow  was  still  dark,  and  his  eye  still 
stern,  for  his  policy  confirmed  his  passions ;  and  it  was 
only  by  stigmatizing,  as  dishonored  and  accursed,  the 
memory  and  cause  of  the  dead  king,  that  he  could  justify 
the  sweeping  spoliation  of  those  who  had  fought  against 
himself,  and  confiscate  the  lands  to  which  his  own  quens 
and  warriors  looked  for  their  reward. 

The  murmurs  had  just  died  into  a  thrilling  hush,  when 
a  woman,  who  had  followed  the  monks  unperceived  and 


K5G  HAROLD. 

unheeded,  passed,  with  a  swift  and  noiseTess  step  to  the 
duke's  foot-stool;  and,  without  bending  knee  to  the 
ground,  said,  in  a  voice  which,  though  low,  was  heard 
by  all:  — 

"Norman,  in  the  name  of  the  women  of  England,  I 
tell  thee  that  thou  darest  not  do  this  wrong  to  the  hero 
who  died  in  defence  of  their  hearths  and  their  children  ! " 

Before  she  spoke,  she  had  thrown  back  her  hood ;  her 
hair  dishevelled,  fell  over  her  shoulders,  glittering  like 
gold,  in  the  blaze  of  the  banquet-lights ;  and  that  won- 
drous beauty,  without  parallel  amidst  the  dames  of  Eng- 
land, shone  like  the  vision  of  an  accusing  angel,  on  the 
eyes  of  the  startled  duke,  and  the  breathless  knights.  But 
twice  in  her  life  Edith  beheld  that  awful  man.  Once, 
when  roused  from  her  reverie  of  innocent  love  by  the 
holiday  pomp  of  his  trumps  and  banners,  the  child-like 
maid  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  grassy  knoll ;  and  once 
again,  when  in  the  hour  of  his  triumph,  and  amidst  the 
wrecks  of  England  on  the  field  of  Sanguelac,  with  a  soul 
surviving  the  crushed  and  broken  heart,  the  faith  of  the 
lofty  woman  defended  the  hero  dead. 

There,  with  knee  unbent,  and  form  unquailing,  with 
marble  cheek,  and  haughty  eye,  she  faced  the  Conqueror; 
and,  as  she  ceased,  his  noble  barons  broke  into  bold 
applause. 

"Who  art  thou?"  "said  William,  if  not  daunted,  at 
least  amazed.  "  Methinks  I  have  seen  thy  face  before  ; 
thou  art  not  Harold's  wife  or  sister  ? " 

"Dread  lord,"  said  Osgood,  "she  was  the  betrothed  of 


HAROLD.  357 

Harold ;  but,  as  within  the  degrees  of  kin,  the  Church 
forbade  their  union,  and  they  obeyed  the  Church.'7 

Out  from  the  banquet-throng  stepped  Mallet  de  Gra- 
ville.  "  0  my  liege,"  said  he,  "  thou  hast  promised  me 
lands  and  earldom  ;  instead  of  these  gifts  undeserved, 
bestow  on  me  the  right  to  bury  and  to  honor  the  remains 
of  Harold  ;  to-day  I  took  from  him  my  life,  let  me  give 
all  I  can  in  return  —  a  grave  !" 

William  paused,  but  the  sentiment  of  the  assembly,  so 
clearly  pronounced,  and,  it  may  be,  his  own  better  nature 
which,  ere  polluted  by  plotting  craft,  and  hardened  by 
despotic  ire,  was  magnanimous  and  heroic,  moved  and 
won  him.  "  Lady,"  said  he,  gently,  "  thou  appealest  not 
in  vain  to  Norman  knighthood  :  thy  rebuke  was  just,  and 
I  repent  me  of  a  hasty  impulse.  Mallet  de  Graville,  thy 
prayer  is  granted  ;  to  thy  choice  be  consigned  the  place 
of  burial,  to  thy  care  the  funeral  rites  of  him  whose  soul 
hath  passed  out  of  human  judgment." 

The  feast  was  over ;  William  the  Conqueror  slept  on 
his  couch,  and  round  him  slumbered  his  Norman  knights, 
dreaming  of  baronies  to  come  ;  and  still  the  torches  moved 
dismally  to  and  fro  the  waste  of  death,  and  through  the 
hush  of  night  was  heard  near  and  far  the  wail  of  women. 

Accompanied  by  the  brothers  of  Waltham,  and  attended 
by  link-bearers,  Mallet  *de  Graville  was  yet  engaged  in 
the  search  for  the  royal  dead  —  and  the  search  was  vain. 
Peeper  and  stiller,  the  autumnal  moon  rose  to  its  melan- 
choly noon,  and  lent  its  ghastly  aid  to  the  glare  of  the 
redder  lights.     But,  on  leaving  the  pavilion,  they  had 


35S  HAROLD. 

missed  Edith ;  she  had  gone  from  them  alone,  and  wan 
lost  in  that  dreadful  wilderness.  And  Aired  said,  de- 
spondingly — 

"  Perchance  we  may  already  have  seen  the  corpse  we 
search  for,  and  not  recognized  it ;  for  the  face  may  be 
mutilated  with  wounds.  And  therefore  it  is  that  Saxon 
wives  and  mothers  haunt  our  battle-fields,  discovering 
those  they  search  by  signs  not  known  without  the  house- 
hold."* 

"Ay,"  said  the  Norman,  "I  comprehend  thee,  by  the 
letter  or  device,  in  which,  according  to  your  customs, 
your  warriors  impress  on  their  own  forms  some  token  of 
affection,  or  some  fancied  charm  against  ill." 

14  It  is  so,"  answered  the  monk  ;  "  wherefore  I  grieve 
that  we  have  lost  the  guidance  of  the  maid." 

While  thus  conversing,  they  had  retraced  their  steps, 
almost  in  despair,  towards  the  duke's  pavilion. 

"  See,"  said  De  Graville,  "how  near  yon  lonely  woman 
hath  come  to  the  tent  of  the  duke  —  yea,  to  the  foot  of 
the  holy  gonfanon,  which  supplanted  *  the  Fighting 
Man  ! '  Pardex,  my  heart  bleeds  to  see  her  striving  to 
lift  up  the  heavy  dead!" 

The  monks  neared  the  spot,  and  Osgood  exclaimed  in 
a  voice  almost  joyful,  — 

— * 

*  The  suggestions  implied  in  the  text  will  probably  be  admitted 
as  correct;  when  we  read  in  the  Saxon  annals  of  the  recognition 
of  the  dead  by  peculiar  marks  on  their  bodies ;  the.  obvious,  or  at 
least  the  more  natural  explanation  of  those  signs  is  to  be  found  in 
the  habit  of  puncturing  the  skin,  mentioned  by  the  Malmesbury 
chronicler. 


HAROLD.  359 

"  It  is  Edith  tjie  Fair  !    This  way,  the  torches  !  hitner, 
quick  ! " 

The  corpsesVhad  been  flung  in  irreverent  haste  from 
either  side  of  tti\  gonfanon,  to  make  room  for  the  banner 
of  the  conquest,  aid  the  pavilion  of  the  feast.     Huddled 
together,  they  lay  in  that  holy  bed.     And  the  woman 
silently,  and  by  the  help  of  no  light  save  the  moon,  was 
intent  on  her  search.     She  waved  her  hand  impatiently 
as  they  approached,  as  if  jealous  of  the  dead  :  but  as  she 
had  not  sought,  so  neither  did  she    oppose,  their   aid. 
Moaning  low  to  herself,  she  desisted  from  her  task,  and 
knelt  watching  them,  and  shaking  her  head  mournfully, 
as  they  removed  helm  after  helm,  and  lowered  the  torches 
upon  stern  and  livid  brows.     At  length  the  lights  fell  red 
and  full  on  the  ghastly  face  of  Haco  —  proud  and  sad  as 
in  life. 

De  Graville  uttered  an  exclamation:  "The  king's 
nephew  :  be  sure  the  king  is  near  ! tf 

A  shudder  went  over  the  woman's  form,  and  the  moan- 
ing ceased. 

They  unhelmed  another  corpse ;  and  the  monks  and 
the  knight,  after  one  glance,  turned  away  sickened  and 
awe-stricken  at  the  sight :  for  the  face  was  all  defeatured 
and  mangled  with  wounds  ;  and  nought  could  they  recog- 
nize save  the  ravaged  majesty  of  what  had  been  man. 
But  at  the  sight  of  that  face,  a  wild  shriek  broke  from 
Edith's  heart. 

She  started  to  her  feet  —  put  aside  the  monks  with  a 
wild    and   angry  gesture,  and    bending    over   the    face, 


360  HAROLD. 

sought  with  her  long  hair  to  wipe  fn       t  the 
blood  ;  then,  with  convulsive  fingers,  she  strove  to  loosen 
the  buckler  of  the  breast-mail.     The  kaigTt  knelt  to  assist 
her.     "  No,  no,"  she  gasped  out.     "  He  is  mine  —  mino 
now!" 

Her  hands  bled  as  the  mail  gave  way  to  her  efforts; 
the  tunic  beneath  was  all  dabbled  will  blood.  She  rent 
the  folds,  and  on  the  breast,  jus'  above  the  silenced 
heart,  were  punctured  in  the  old  Sixon  letters,  the  word 
"  Edith  ;  "  and  just  below,  in  characters  more  fresh,  the 
word  "England." 

"  See,  see  ! "  she  cried  in  piercing  accents']  and,  clasp- 
ing the  dead  in  her  arms,  she  kissed  the  lips,  and  called 
aloud,  in  words  of  the  tenderest  endearments,  as  if  she 
addressed  the  living.  All  there  knew  then  that  the 
search  was  ended;  all  knew  that  the  eyes  of  love  had 
recognized  the  dead. 

"  Wed,  wed,"  murmured  the  betrothed  ;  "  wed  at  last  ! 
O  Harold,  Harold  !  the  words  of  the  Yala  were  true  — 
and  Heaven  is  kind  ! "  and  laying  her  head  gently  on  the 
breast  of  the  dead,  she  smiled  and  died. 

At  the  east  end  of  the  choir  in  the  abbey  of  Waltham, 
was  long  shown  the  tomb  of  the  last  Saxon  king,  inscribed 
with  the  touching  words  —  "  Harold  Infelix."  But  not 
under  that  stone,  according  to  the  chronicler  who  should 
best  know  the  truth,*  mouldered  the  dust  of  him  in  whose 
grave  was  buried  ah  epoch  in  human  annals. 

*  The  contemporary  Norman  chronicler,  William  of  Poitiers. 


HAROLD 


361 


"Let  Sis  corpse,"  said  William  the  Norman,  "  let  his 

he  coasts,  which  his  life  madly  defended. 

\  wail  his  dirge,  and  girdle  his  grave ;  and  his 

:  otec    the  land  which  hath  passed  to  the  Norman's 

6  ray." 

And  Mallet  de  Graville  assented  to  the  word  of  hip 
c  Jef,  for  his  knightly  heart  turned  into  honor  the  latent 
taunt ;  and  well  he  knew,  that  Harold  could  have  chosen 
no  burial-spot  so  worthy  his  English  spirit  and  hns  Roman 
end. 

The  tomb  at  Waltham  would  have  excluded  the  faithful 
ashes  of  the  betrothed,  whose  heart  had  broken  on  the 
bosom  she  had  found ;  more  gentle  wras  the  grave  in  the 
temple  of  Heaven,  and  hallowed  by  the  bridal  death- 
dirge  of  the  everlasting  sea. 

So,  in  that  sentiment  of  poetry  and  love,  which  made 
half  the  religion  of  a  Norman  knight,  Mallet  de  Graville 
suffered  death  to  unite  those  whom  life  had  divided.  In 
the  holy  burial-ground  that  encircled  a  small  Saxon 
chapel,  on  the  shore,  and  near  the  spot,  on  whjeh  William 
had  leapt  to  land,  one  grave  received  the  betrothed  ;  and 
the  tomb  of  Waltham  only  honored  an  empty  name. 

Eight  centuries  have  rolled  away,  and  where  is  the 
Norman  now  ?  or  where  is  not  the  Saxon  ?  The  little 
urn  that  sufficed  for  the  mighty  lord  *  is  despoiled  of  his 

*  "Rex  magnus  parva  jacet  hie  GulieWlus  in  urn  a.  — 
Sufficit  et  magno  parva  Domus  Domino." 
From  William    the   Conqueror's    epitaph    (ap-Gemiticen).     Hii 

XL— 31 


362  HAitOLC 

very  du&t ;  but  the  torabless  shade  of  the  kingly  freeman 
still  guards  the  coasts,  and  rests  upon  the  seas.  In  many 
a  noiseless  field,  with  Thoughts  for  Armies,  your'relfcs,  0 
Saxon  Heroes,  have  won  back  the  victory  from  the  bones 
of  the  Norman  saints ;  and  whenever,  with  fairer  fates, 
Freedom  opposes  Force,  and  Justice,  redeeming  the  old 
defeat,  smites  down  the  armed  Frauds  that  would  conse- 
crate the  wrong,  —  smile,  O  soul  of  our  Saxon  Harold,  - 
imile,  appeased,, on  the  Saxon's  land! 

oones  are  said  to  have  been  disinterred  some  centuries  after  his 
-leath. 


THE    END. 


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